Phoenix
by tkelparis
Summary: Part 1 of my "Metamorphosis" series. Bobby's father's death triggers changes in his and Alex's lives. This was started before Frank made his first appearance, but I'm keeping what I wrote for Bobby's brother. I think it's more dramatic this way.
1. Chapter 1

Series Title: Metamorphosis

Author: Kendra Crispin

Rating: T for all but a few parts

Summary: Every relationship develops and grows/evolves because pivotal moments. Never was this more true than for Alex Eames and Bobby Goren. Inspired by my first version of the story "Shattered."

Classifications: G&E leading into G/E, A/U

Series Spoilers: Late season 2 eps, the season 3 arc, all Bishop eps, and "Great Barrier."

Archive: Amorous Intent. Anywhere else, please ask.

Disclaimer: Only the idea is mine. That and the DVD copies I own of Years 1 & 3. Plus recordings of the season 4 eps, all the season 5 eps aired so far, and all but one of the season 2 eps.

Overall Acknowledgments: Susan G.; without her, "Shattered" wouldn't exist, and neither would this. Lara, for being an excellent beta. Tres Mechante, for giving me a go to put my own take on a possibility she used, and for saying that the original version had her hooked.

Author's note: Since those at Amorous Intent insisted on knowing more about the events that led to "Shattered," I have fulfilled that desire. However, this series is gonna diverge from the outcome of "Shattered" since I've realized that their reactions would've had different results. I'll be presenting a new outcome due to the events alluded to in "Shattered."

Story Title: Phoenix

Rating: T for emotional angst, except for a M+ part (for the adult version only)

Summary: As Alex prepares to become a surrogate, Bobby learns his long-absent father has died. Ashes, a symbol of devastation, have been part of Bobby's life since childhood, and the pile seems to endlessly grow... Will anything come to life from those ashes?

Classifications: strong G&E friendship, G/E

Note: I didn't know the Year 2 time line when I first wrote this, but after seeing all but one of the episodes – not to mention S5's two-hour episode – I had to go back and make changes. I originally had set this a month before Year 3's "Undaunted Mettle," but looking at the time line based on about when Alex gave birth told me that UM is probably set **after** "A Person of Interest." For part of part 1, I took inspiration from Kyllikki's "Signifying Nothing." Thanks, Kyllikki, for writing that collection of missing scenes from "Phantom." It helped fuel my imagination.

Spoilers (in no particular order): "The Insider" (1-13), "Anti-Thesis" (2-3), "The Faithful" (1-4), "The Good Doctor" (1-9), "Phantom" (1-16), "The Third Horseman" (1-11), "Chinoserie" (2-5), "Badge" ((1-20) I noticed how Alex commented over Bobby's failure to notice from papers that Terry Randolph was a woman, and guessed that – given **her** nickname – something like that happened when Bobby first heard about her), "My Good Name" (4-22), "Legion" (2-18), "A Person of Interest" (2-23), "Cherry Red" (2-19), "The Pilgrim" (2-8), "Jones" (1-5), "Faith" (1-21), and "In the Wee Small Hours" (5-6 & 5-7).

PHOENIX

PART ONE

Touch pen to paper. Fill in the blank with relevant information. Move on to next spot. Repeat until all blanks are filled. Place in "finished" pile, grab the next page, and start over. Repeat process until all pages are complete.

It's a pattern he knows well from over a decade on the force. It **always** drains his patience and it takes him a long time to finish the paperwork. The most mind-numbing aspect of a job he otherwise loves...

Okay, there are days I wish I'd stayed in the army, Bobby amends, where I wouldn't see as many "politically sensitive" cases. Where the only thing that truly mattered was how well I did my job, and I never had to think about whose nose might get bent out of shape by the questions required to solve a case.

He had more of those days several years ago. When he worked, people noticed his uncanny ability to notice tiny details and read people, but mostly focused on his habits. The way he tilted his head, the gestures, the off-the-wall questions to suspects and witnesses... They didn't know how to deal with him. In small doses, or for a few weeks most could tolerate him... All were pleased to not be partnered with him anymore. He tried adjusting his behavior, to not be so... difficult... by his partners' standards, but keeping up a... less eccentric... set of behaviors only came naturally when he was undercover, or creating an image while dealing with a particular person.

He even heard a rumor in Narcotics that there was a running bet that no one would last more than six months working with "that whacked Sherlock." And no one did.

Hence, undercover work became an outlet for him. Where what mattered was pulling off your character and catching the perps. He had worked in seven undercover operations before running the three that the crooked Agent John Hampton mentioned.

The memory of the undercover FBI agent building a case against the Genovese crime family still pisses Bobby off. How that man used a young debutante, took money from her, gave her drugs, and then killed her father to keep his bosses from finding out... Hampton nearly escaped through the rabbit hole his superiors set up for him, but Bobby – and his partner, Alex – found enough evidence to convince the US attorney and the FBI to give him up.

Undercover work was one of his "special skills," as one of his former bosses noted. He was good at it. Too good...

He told Hampton that he wouldn't be good at it, that it wasn't his nature because, by then, Bobby wanted to forget about those days. Of course, I didn't trust Hampton from the moment I met him, Bobby thinks, especially after the penetrating stare when that agent revealed that he'd read Alex's file. Never mind my own... As he was closing that last Narcotics operation, his boss suggested he work on another. The ease in slipping into a role was, he'd realized, an escape from having to deal with people regularly. An escape that could become dangerous to his sanity. Whatever I have of it, he always sighed... Plus, undercover work didn't allow him much time to actively investigate, which he enjoyed more but didn't get much chance for in that squad.

He promptly put in for a transfer to the toughest place within the NYPD to get into: the Major Case Squad. They got the hardest and most misleading cases, the smartest and most difficult humps to catch. Bobby always loved the chase, and there was always satisfaction at successfully closing a rough case. And he wanted to be working those tough cases, even if he had to work more often with a partner. His fellow officers and detectives in Narcotics didn't doubt that he would do well, but many wondered if MCS would want to deal with him.

But Bobby had reason to think he had a good chance: he wasn't a stranger to the boss of MCS. James Deakins – then a detective who had **just** started on the command track – had given a lecture at the Academy during Bobby's last month there, and Bobby asked questions about the cases mentioned. He had **far** more questions than Deakins had answers, but the older man had seemed impressed – not just surprised – at the intuition shown by the former army officer. Years later, Bobby learned that the kinds of questions he had asked actually helped Deakins – and the detectives working under his command – crack a few cases that would have gone unsolved.

Deakins hadn't forgotten that, and Bobby started at MCS within a week of his request, as there was an immediate vacancy to be filled. Before he set foot in the eleventh floor of One Police Plaza, he skimmed Deakins' notes on the new partner, a four-year veteran of the squad and a former Vice member. Somehow, what little he read about "Detective Alex Eames" never clued him in to the most important detail about his new partner...

"_I assume, Goren," Deakins says as he leads Bobby into his office, after they passed Bobby's new desk, where his binder now rests, "that you've read the list of case types we usually handle?"_

"_Yes, sir." His stock answer at times when dealing with superiors now, it comes from his years in the army, even as an investigator. He's also learned that people don't like silences – even police officers – and feel a need to fill them. You can learn an amazing amount of information by mastering that skill._

_Deakins looks him hard in the eye, noting his new detective's reluctance to reveal anything else. Whatever Deakins' thoughts are, Bobby has a hard time guessing them. He must be a good poker player, Bobby thinks as his new boss slightly shakes his head and continues. "You read the memo about who your partner is?"_

_He nods. "Detective Alex Eames." The memo didn't say much else, but Bobby decided that it wasn't worth the effort to find out anything. No partnership lasted long enough for it to be worth learning details about them that he couldn't learn from watching them on the job. Based on what the memo did say about Eames' excellent record, he's expecting someone tall and intimidating. "I know that to be working here for four years – and to make it here so quickly – he must be an **exceptional** detective."_

_Suddenly Deakins' eyes turn inquisitive, like he sees something amiss in the words. What, Bobby wonders, could possibly be off? Then Deakins' eyes seem to be caught by something, and then the sounds a firm yet quiet set of footsteps approaches. "Ah, there you are, Alex. Meet Detective Goren."_

_Bobby turns his body, and freezes. The person facing him is anything but tall or menacing. Or male. He's looking down at a woman whose head probably barely reaches over the tops of his shoulders even with the heels she wears. Whose dark blond hair drapes just past shoulders covered by a professional, tailored dark suit. Her skin is semi-pale, but shows few signs of aging aside from the weary lines all cops seem to get after even a few years working tough cases. But her eyes... Those hazel orbs have seen a lot in a short time. That much he can tell, but beyond that..._

_His ingrained manners, one of the things his mother had impressed the importance of upon him before she started slipping away, slap him upside the head. Not the best start, Robert Goren, he silently berates himself._

_She smirks and rolls her eyes, seemingly amused at his mistake. He clears his throat. "I'm, uh, sorry, Eames." He watches to see if she was offended by his mistake. I hope using her last name helps, because I'm getting the feeling I don't want to piss this woman off..._

_She simply waves her right hand in dismissal. "It's not the first time someone's made that mistake, Goren." She extends the hand, an offering of some sort. He blinks, but accepts, and is surprised by how firm her grip is. Who is she?_

When they were sent on their first case, somehow she kept her surprise over his actions to a minimum. Oh, she wasn't prepared for some things, he remembers with a wince, but she seemed to take it in stride. That she liked driving was a bonus, but the biggest plus in her favor was – even as they were getting used to each other – that she never interrupted his quiet thinking times unless she had something to share about the case.

Still, it wasn't easy. Almost two and a half years ago, they had one case that did a number on both of them, the murder/assassination of Dr. Leo Cavela. Alex had been on edge since their previous case – involving a grim family dispute – where he had to resort to intense psychological pressure to get one suspected witness to tell the truth, and Bobby still squirms at the memory of her glare afterwards. She clearly thought he'd pushed it too far. How noticeably on edge she acted varied – Bobby knows well that she keeps a tight watch on her reactions – and in the weeks during and after the Cavela case, he waited for the other shoe to drop. Waited for Deakins to tell him that he would have to move on to another partner... and waited... and waited...

Yet – despite that it had been about six months into their partnership, the exact upper limit all previous partners could stomach him – no notice, no visit came. If anything, Alex started to relax around him. Hell, Bobby thinks, she didn't even bat an eyelash over how I used those bronze and porcelain "toys" to rattle a confession out of Lucile Mobray... Not that he'd been looking at the others, but he could feel the disbelief coming from Carver and the lawyer. Yet it seems that Alex spent the whole time watching both him and Mrs. Mobray, and not reacting much.

Looking back, Bobby still marvels at his luck. Alex has proved herself to be reliable, an excellent listener, good for the ride to give his hunches a look-see, and able to follow his thoughts. She has no problem poking at his hypotheses, to find the holes in his logic, and help him find the right paths to take. She also does not put up with any of his crap, is not intimidated by him even though he's practically **twice** her size, and looks out for him.

She is the kind of person he never knew could exist in his life. She has become... almost family. The one constant in his life, the one person he can depend on. His hands become restless, the pen waving slightly above the paper. The constant who has been going to various doctor's appointments for over a month. He's now positive that it's not routine check-ups; the appointments are just too close together. The implications of that send shivers down his spine, make his knees twitch, and shock the tiniest fibers of his being into seizures.

After all, this **is** Alex Eames. His partner, his best friend, his lifeline, his touchstone, his... everything. She has brought light into his world where there was at best perpetual, thick fog, and at worst murky darkness. Stability, a sense of normalcy, and a feeling of being appreciated and valued. Things he didn't dream he'd **ever** have... She's given him all of that.

The idea that something's not right with her is **definite** cause for concern.

He's stayed silent so far; he doesn't like to pry into her life. Almost everything he's ever learned about her has been through little admissions during investigations, or when she tells him a story about herself while they're having a meal during, or after, a case. A few times he's found it necessary to ask, but only if something about whatever they're dealing with seems to be bothering her. Which can be hard to detect; she's sometimes better at hiding her real feelings than he is at hiding his. And that's also something he worries about...

Everything she knows about him is a result of one of three scenarios: he volunteered something during an off-duty moment, he said it as part of an act while questioning someone – all of their acts have a basis in reality – or it spills out during a moment of stress. The last ones only happen during, or as a result of, an interrogation. One from just four months ago comes immediately to mind, and Bobby promptly rubs his forehead with his left hand – holding a pen – to push the memory back into the abyss, where Alex still says it belongs.

God bless her, she wouldn't leave him alone for almost six weeks, except at night when she had to go home, after that day. But she started spending every hour she could spare with him, even though it meant putting off some regular dinners with her family. All starting the night after Nicole Wallace had fled...

_Why would she insist on coming with me to the grocery store? Why did she buy things that won't last till she gets home, and why, Bobby wonders as he unlocks his apartment, did she follow me up here? Never mind the fact that she's never been here before... But he doesn't argue; he's too drained to argue with her. He hates it when they argue, even when it's just about a case. Those moments hit somewhere deep inside, and revive the anxieties that have festered since he was seven._

_As they put the bags on his counter, Bobby sees his partner glancing around. He decides to put away everything while her eyes explore the living room and kitchen. "Nice place," she compliments, even though she couldn't have looked for more than a few seconds. "Bookshelves against every wall. Not surprising knowing you."_

_Bobby finds that he can't move. Despite his decision to not question her motives, the need to know why she's here is too strong. "Eames, you don't have to be here."_

"_I know, but I want to help." Her expression is so open, offering without asking for anything other than the chance to help._

_She's acting like it's no big deal... In his weary state, he can't wrap his brain around that idea. "But don't you and your family usually have a dinner or something on this night?"_

_Shrugging, Alex calmly explains,"I told them I was busy dealing with loose ends on a case. Which **is** true."_

_Bobby feels bad about that, and can't meet her eyes. "Eames, I'm taking up so much of your time, your social life is getting more unexciting than Father McShale's."_

_Alex doesn't blink at the reminder of an uncomfortable case from their first months as partners. They'd argued over how to resolve it, and then over Bobby's decision to go behind Carver's back to convince McShale to take a deal. They'd settled into a routine by then – they knew each other well enough to communicate through some hand signals – but Bobby hadn't been sure whether that would be the final straw. Only a few months earlier – only a month after his transfer, no less – they had argued in front of Deakins on how to proceed on catching Dr. Peter Kelmer for the murder of his wife, and Deakins sided with Bobby, forcing Alex to break a promise she made to the victim's cousin._

_Alex's anger over that – he quickly learned that keeping promises is important to her, and he's never heard her make a promise she didn't think she could keep – had prompted Bobby to buy their meals for a while after that, and make sure the coffee she liked was ready for the moment she arrived at work. He went back to the same pattern after the McShale mess, and it seemed to work again. Somehow, they haven't argued in front of anyone else since, unless it was part of a ruse. Only once since did I feel convinced that she'd walk away, yet nothing happened..._

_Alex casts a soft yet determined gaze in his direction. "I can't let your thoughts torment you, Bobby," she explains. "Especially when you have trouble not letting them do so." An eyebrow quirks gently, and he finds it impossible to not squirm under her gaze, a little embarrassed that she knows that. It's nothing like the things Nicole said, he tells himself. Alex would never hurt him, and he knows it. Her face softens, and she adds, in a gentle yet firm voice, "I want to see you get past it sooner rather than later, and I'll be damned if I'm gonna let her leave you hurt for long."_

_Bobby stares in shock. She doesn't want to see me hurting? She... cares... about how I'm doing? "Eames... I'll be fine." His tone, quiet and weak, fails to convince himself. No way will it convince Alex, he thinks._

"_In how long?" She grabs the cocoa mix – something he never buys – from one of the bags, and the milk from another. "How long are you going to dwell on what she said, on what she did, on what she made you feel?" She grabs two coffee mugs out of one of his cabinets, and pours milk into both. Her voice isn't accusatory, but the matter-of-fact tone makes it clear that she doesn't really believe his assurances. "Bobby, she had **no** right to say any of those spiteful things. She had no right to dig into your past, to find information that she could use against you," she adds as she puts both mugs in the microwave._

_His voice is barely audible. "Isn't that what I do? Observe people carefully, gather information from looking into their past, and use it to trip them up. To make them confess to knowing something about a crime, or about their involvement."_

_Her eyes dart to him, as though she can't believe he's comparing himself to a fleeing perp. "You are a detective," she finally asserts as she looks for a spoon. It takes her a few tries to find the right drawer. Bobby can't find his voice or even point to tell her where to look. She brings it over to the cocoa can below the microwave. "You use it to learn the truth, to gain cooperation, to get a bad guy to admit to what he did. You've got a great memory, and you're diligent about learning the details of human psychology. Having talents like that doesn't make you a low-life, Bobby. It's what you do with it. Nicole Wallace uses it for personal gain, to keep people from finding out too much about her, so they can't hurt her. She saw you as a threat."_

_Bobby's head shakes before he can stop it. "Maybe, but I don't think that was the whole case here."_

"_What was the case, Bobby," she asks, apparently fried at him holding his ground. The microwave beeps in the background, but she's focusing on him._

_His hands fidget like crazy in a tiny space in front of him. "It's what I said in the interrogation room. When I met her, she wanted me to know the real her. Not the persona she created to hide herself from the rest of the world, but the-"_

"_Bobby," she interjects tiredly as she retrieves the mugs from the microwave, like she's telling him to shut up for the moment. She holds off speaking till she puts the mugs down, and nearly turns around. She bites her lower lip, trying to find the best way to express her thoughts. She opens her mouth to say something, but looking at him seems to make her change her mind. Finally she sighs and opens the cocoa lid. "Stop it. Stop thinking about her." She spoons some of the powder into the mugs. "We failed to catch her. We made a big mistake using that deception with the keys, and she's slipped through our grip. With any luck, she'll never show her face here again, and maybe get caught elsewhere else. In fact, while you were dwelling on what happened and not doing anything else, I was on the phone with the Australians." Bobby's eyebrows raise. What... When did she have the time...? "You were talking with the Captain and Carver," she adds, like she senses his question. He flushes slightly as being so well... understood._

_Alex continues, as fact-of-fact as ever, "We'll be exchanging information with the Australians, the Thais, and Scotland Yard for a while. The evidence will be compiled, every aspect of her life will be checked, and I'm hoping that we'll come up with more than enough to bury her should she ever resurface." Her tone is hard, biting. She's angry, Bobby wonders through his tired state, at Nicole? Or is she just pissed over a failed solve? "Right now, we wait. I'll let you know when there's new info, but the point, Bobby, is that it's over. Out of your hands." The finality in her voice, the soothing tone, connects with something deep inside. The frightened seven-year-old within who wants reassurance? "Please start letting go," she pleads, slowly enunciating each word as she finishes mixing the cocoa._

_Bobby shifts, uneasily. "That's easier said than done, Eames." Because I can't remember the last thing I was able to let go off that wasn't by accident..._

"_Well," Alex declares, tone forbidding questions, "until I see you trying, I'm coming over every night to check on you. Even if I have to postpone family obligations." She turns, holding the mugs without the contents coming close to spilling, as he stares in shock. "Like I said, I'm not letting her leave you hurt. No one messes with my partner. I only wish I could've taught her a lesson," she adds she hands him the mug._

_His eyes drop to the contents, needing a distraction; her eyes are staring too intensely at him. "Hot chocolate?"_

"_My grandmother Eames' remedy for exhaustion and weariness." She smiles at some memory. "She made a point of giving some to every person in the family who's a cop. Said the cocoa soothes the soul, and the hot milk helps you rest."_

_He looks hard into her face, trying to not profile her. The don't-argue-with-me stance tells him that it's better to go with the flow. He sighs, giving it. "I guess I owe you dinner. What do you want?"_

Her simply being there with him, talking constantly – even about the most inane things – always made him feel better. Just the sound of her voice, Bobby discovered then, had a calming effect on him. Still does. Hearing her talk while we're doing paperwork makes the time seem to pass sooner, he remembers. Which is a bonus during any mundane task.

Forcing the pen back to the expense form, his mind thinks back to after those first six weeks after Nicole fled. He'd gotten used to having her around off-duty, and so he started looking for activities they'd enjoy and events that they could attend together. It's only been about three months, so all they've seen are a few car shows and a performance of "The Nutcracker." But Alex loved them, and her enjoyment rubbed off on him, even if he already liked whatever they were seeing.

Bobby grins as he remembers Alex creating a game out of her habit of having snappy one-liners at her disposal. The rules are simple: the players try to out-wit each other, seeing who can think of the best comeback. Scoring is somewhat arbitrary, but whoever has the most points at the end of a set time wins.

It's a game he always loses. As much as he knows, the talent of creating snappers – what her nephews and nieces call them – requires specialized emotional and people skills. Skills that – while he's tried hard for years to master – he's never been good at.

Not that he minds losing; the journey of the game is the whole point. Seeing what ridiculous thoughts pop out, and finding how "out there" they get before his brain can't create any more of them.

Besides, the game never fails to make him laugh out loud, and she laughs while they play. Especially when he does. It's surprising how much he loves to hear her mirth, although it **is** a delightful sound. And she always gives him a big smile – one that lights up her entire face, and makes her eyes glow with pleasure – when his sides are hurting from laughter. Alex has the most beautiful smile...

Bobby's eyes widen as he realizes where his thoughts are going: into **very** forbidden ground. Ground he's been going into more and more often in the last four months. Ground he occasionally slipped into before then... His hands – dominant one still holding his pen – immediately cover his eyes and rub them. Listen loud and clear, Robert Obadiah Goren, shouts the voice that sounds like a blend of his past bosses and commanders. Cease those thoughts immediately! Detective Alexandra Eames is your partner, and you will only think of her as such! Understood?!

This kind of "voice" is just part of being normal. People who have been authority figures to you generally have some particular thing they always tell you, and your internal parent/caretaker tends to absorb those admonishments. It's not a sign of schizophrenia; just something everyone experiences. Something that is an annoyance on most good days... but still normal.

In any case, a partner can – in the best of circumstances – be your best friend, he reminds himself. And that's a wonderful thing.

He clasps his hands down on the desk, and waits a few seconds. All he hears in his mind is Alex's snarky laugh... Then her voice tells the voice of those bosses exactly where they can shove their opinion.

Bobby sighs, resisting the urge to groan as his right hand covers his eyes while the left drops to the desk. He **never** had a snarky voice in his head until after being partnered with Alex. Why does it have to be her voice, he wonders. Why does it entice me to indulge in dirty thoughts about her? As he lets his hand drop to cover his mouth, he sees Alex coming back with papers in her hands. Dammit, why does it **always** happen at the worst moments?

His desk phone interrupts his train of thought before it can go any further. Taking a huge breath and nearly heaving it out in relief, he grabs the phone, pretending to not notice his partner's footsteps. Please, God, let her be engrossed in work; she'd run away and never look back if she knew about those thoughts. I don't want that...

--

Alex walks up as he answers, "Goren." He's having another worrying fit. Alex noted that over thirty minutes earlier. She's noticed the big man – who intimidates almost everyone except her – looking at her with worry in his dark eyes lately. And she knows why; all her doctor's appointments. They've hard to hide, after all. She hasn't explained the reason behind them yet because she's still figuring out how to tell him.

First that she's going to be a surrogate. Then she'll deal with the fact that she won't be able to actively work cases with him for the last two months or so of her pregnancy. I can make calls and do some research, but I'll be tied to a desk while he has to walk around with someone new...

She knows Bobby fears abandonment; he's had it dealt to him all his life. First his mother was diagnosed with schizophrenia, then his father walked out on the whole family, the slow estrangement from his older brother, and watching his mother slipping away into the cancer of mental disorders. No one has ever stayed for him, guided him. Once she had to explain to her family why she became so protective of him, especially since she'd told her father about that letter... **He** had wanted to know what made Alex decide to stick with someone she'd wanted away from weeks before. After giving a condensed version of what she knew – at the time – of her partner's life story, her father remarked that it was amazing that Bobby Goren managed to become a responsible adult by basically teaching himself.

Alex releases a silent sigh as she sits, watching him answer the phone. Somehow, she has never thought much about that, though she knows that he has beaten a lot of odds to become who he is. That became especially clear after the Nicole disaster last year, when it seemed that the Devil's Sister wanted to lure Bobby to the "dark side." Alex varies almost daily – since there are merciful days when the subject escapes her conscious mind altogether – on which adjective she uses for the woman she wants to see dead on a gurney, and she usually has a hard time caring about how harsh that sounds despite her dislike of the aftermath of firing a weapon. In the aftermath of Nicole, Alex started making more of an effort to make him feel like a normal, good person who's worth something.

I hope he doesn't handle it badly when I finally tell him, she thinks as she looks at the paperwork she wants to get through quickly. With all those abandonment issues... She's never let slip a hint about that letter. How can I, she's felt for well over a year, without hurting him? I wish I could take it back... She actually hadn't thought about it since late '01, until the preparations started. Now making him deal with someone else – even if it's because she's doing something good – highlights what she sees as her failure of discernment. Praying that the call isn't about a case – cause it's just not kosher to wish a major crime to happen so you and your partner can get a **temporary** respite from the never-ending paperwork pile for a few hours or days or weeks, although Alex will make an exception if the dead person is Nicole – she starts writing, keeping an ear on his responses.

"Who's this?" Those words, combined with the guarded tone, draw her head up to look at him. His face is scrunched, eyes staring at the page in front of him as he listens intently to the caller. This cannot be good...

"Yes, that's me. What's this about?" He's getting that "you're wasting my time" look. When Bobby gets that look, she often will need to calm him down or help him find some way to relax after it's over. She looks back to the paper she's working on.

A quiet thud pops Alex's gaze up, and she notices that the pen has dropped out of his hand. Her eyes fly to his face, and her heart sinks into her stomach as she registers the glassy, dazed look that she hasn't seen since Nicole left the interrogation room with the lawyer that Dr. Fellows hired.

His mother died? But she dismisses the thought as quickly as it comes; the person would've said that they were from Carmel Ridge if that was the case... And his responses would've told me so...

Bobby works his mouth up and down, needing several seconds to force words out. "Um... no, I hadn't heard." A slight pause, "W-when...?"

Alex puts down her pen, forgetting all about the paperwork. Whatever has happened, Bobby's going to need company later. **Her** company. Whether he thinks so or not, she decides.

The person must have answered the unspoken question enough for Bobby's taste; he swallows, picks back up his pen, drags over his binder and manages, "It's okay, I... I can come by. How late are you...?"

Oh, this is bad if he can barely force out complete sentences. Alex's only comfort is that it's not likely to involve Nicole Wallace. At least not ending with her being arrested and jailed for good, the voice of cold reality reminds her. Or dead and only able to hurt him through memories.

Bobby finishes writing. "Okay. Thank you." His hand takes several seconds to hang up the phone, moving very slowly. As though he doesn't think he can do it any faster without dropping it. He stares at the paper on which he wrote the information, not looking like he actually sees the words.

Alex can't take it anymore, and whispers, "Bobby?" She waits several seconds for her voice to register, and just as she opens her mouth to repeat his name, his eyes sluggishly lift themselves up to meet hers. The light in them is almost completely gone, and her heart feels like someone's rolling and twisting it into a pretzel. "What happened?"

He swallows, looking like the action costs him a lot of energy. "Not here. Not now. I... I-I, uh, have s-something to do after I finish here."

Something you're not looking forward to. "I'm going with you."

The simple declaration brings more life to his face. Shock counts as animation compared to the glassy look. "Eames, you... you don't have to." Like he didn't expect that I'd make such an offer, she sadly realizes.

"But I want to." Her quiet yet determined words bring a little more light into his eyes, and she sees the gratitude he doesn't know how to express. His face also becomes less drawn. Definite improvement, Alex thinks as she watches him push himself back into the paperwork as a distraction to pass the time. She returns to hers, keeping an eye on him to make sure he's doing okay. When it comes to Bobby Goren, there's really only three general states he's ever in: fine, questionable, or shaky. And he's leaning towards shaky...

Though only two hours pass, it seems much longer to Alex when Bobby puts down his pen and starts organizing his binder in preparation to leave. She finished her pile of paperwork forty minutes ago, handed them to Deakins, and has been reading another report while waiting for him to finish. That Bobby managed to complete his pile within such a short time – without complaint, no less – is unheard of, and all the more reason to worry.

When he stands to take his paperwork to Deakins, she starts gathering her things into a small briefcase she decided to bring that morning. Her eyes glance over to their boss's office, and note the puzzlement and concern on Deakins's face. He doesn't look like he's asking questions; he knows by now that he's not going to get answers, and that asking them isn't necessarily a good thing. However, Alex detects their captain watching out of the corner of his eye as Bobby comes back over.

Alex stands, closing the briefcase. "You ready?"

Bobby blinks, like he's forgotten her stated intention. "Um, you sure you want to...?" His left hand distractedly grabs his binder, and his eyes won't look up from the desk.

Squashing the urge to sigh, she nods even though he won't see it. "Yes." It always works. That quiet, I'm-not-changing-my-mind-so-live-with-it tone that lets him know she's serious. And he's always taken it seriously.

Alex remains silent as they take their coats, scarves, knit caps, and gloves. She doesn't remark on how his steps are hitting the floor harder than normal, even though he's not walking any faster or slower than usual. She says nothing during the elevator ride down about how he stares at the buttons, but isn't seeing them. She bites back an urge to make an observation on how listlessly he puts on the protection from the cold, or how oddly vulnerable he looks in that cap tonight. She holds her tongue till they get in the SUV, and only then breaks the silence. "What's the address?"

He remains silent, merely unzips the binder slowly – like someone who doesn't want to touch what's inside – and gently tugs a sheet off of the notepad. Alex takes it, careful not to touch his fingers. He's never been comfortable with touching except during undercover work when they often pretend to be married, where they can pull off any appearance of closeness or intimacy they wish. She has wondered about it but never worked up the nerve to ask him. Probably because you don't wanna scare him? She ignores the knowing voice in her head and reads the name. Hemmerick Brothers Funeral Home, on Clayton Powell.

Yeah, someone died. Someone Bobby wasn't expecting to hear about. Alex swallows another sigh, and starts the car. She drives it out of the garage, and takes them to the address.

Since Bobby's not talking, there's no point in her talking about anything. Silences between her and Bobby aren't necessarily a bad thing; he often needs quiet to think about details of a case, something none of his past partners ever figured out. Alex isn't the type to talk without reason; her wisecracks are always meant to lighten the mood or to just draw out one of Bobby's snorts. Simple chatting is something she only does if it fits the undercover character she's playing.

They went for a few years without him telling her how grateful he was for her quiet acceptance of his need for occasional silences. After several weeks of her spending extra time with him following Nicole's flight from justice, it slipped out that no one else ever accepted – let alone without questioning – that he sometimes need silence to think. He didn't actually say the word, but it was in his eyes and tone. He's said a lot of things to her tacitly. That was one of the details of his expressive face and sometimes telling body language, which she's realized is both one of his greatest strengths and one of his greatest weaknesses.

But it's only a weakness if he's dealing with someone who pays careful attention to facial expressions, and body language. After the painful realization that there is someone else out there who's as good an expert at reading people as Bobby is, and who uses it for their own selfish interests... She's made a point of carefully watching him to learn to read his quirks, the subtle differences between his moods, and figuring out what he needs from her at any given moment.

She's only had a little over four months to become better at it, but she has. Of course, to use an expression meant for men regarding women, you gotta give a little to get a little. So she slowly began to tell him more about herself, based on what she thought of by looking around his apartment. Some things were so easy to tell him, and he seemed delighted that she trusted him enough to relate those events.

Bobby's still holding back a lot. Personal history, family secrets... Nicole Wallace, through her surprise revelation in the interrogation room, taught Alex that she still has a lot to learn about Bobby, and while she knew that already, it stung sharply to have the knowledge re-enforced in that way.

And the struggle to figure out how to heal Bobby from the emotional pain... Rough. But definitely worth it. She's learned that she can draw outright laughs from him if she can find the right punch-line or joke. Not the little – but genuine – closed-mouth laughs that one of her smart-ass comments about a case or a weird detail about her youth draws from him.

I can still hear his snort over my admitting to having had an ABBA fan club card, she silently groans. Someday, he's gonna explain why it was so amusing. I wasn't even trying to be funny...

Not those little laughs, but big, side-splitting laughs. The kind that sometimes force you to wipe the tears from your eyes so you can see. Both kinds make him more animated. The latter makes his eyes and face literally light up, and relaxes his whole being. He's much happier after such moments, and it's a shame those are few and far between; there's been so little happiness in his life, and even the smallest joys – she's noticed – seem to bring him a lot more pleasure than they would to the average person.

Just when she became so protective of him, so worried about his well-being, she's not sure. Alex first noticed it when they were investigating the murder of a paroled felon, Frank Caspari, and had realized that his murderer – who'd also tried to kill Caspari's sister – was pretending to be a United Nations economist. That man, Gerry Rankin, was sliding over the edge; he had kept so many secrets from his family, and the pressure seemed to be getting to him. Bobby had grown concerned about the Rankin children when the depths of Gerry's desperation to keep the secret safe became more clear. Mrs. Rankin's attempt to talk with him revealed that he had his children with him, and it looked like he might kill them rather than let them see who he really was. Bobby rushed out, calling Deakins to get people to the hotel immediately, and he'd driven down there himself, which showed how urgent he considered the situation.

She'd hitched a ride with a NYPD patrol car, and arrived to see her partner nowhere in sight. Their SUV was there, so he was, too...

_She races over to the SUV, needing to dump her overcoat. The adrenaline is making her hot, even though it's cold. She unlocks the driver's door, and finds Bobby's coat dumped over both front seats. His binder is peaking out from underneath his coat on the passenger seat, where he'd left it before. Well, that's Bobby for you, Alex thinks as she yanks her coat off and tosses it in._

_Just as she's about to close the door, something metallic on the floor catches her eye. It shouldn't be there. She reaches over, pulling it more into the light, and freezes. Bobby's pocket knife. Why isn't he carrying it? But it clinks against something else, also metallic. She releases the knife, lightly drags the other object forward, and gasps._

_Bobby's service piece..._

_Alex bursts out of the car, using her remote to lock it – out of habit – as her eyes scan for whoever's in charge. A senior-looking New Jersey trooper is standing at the bottom of the stairs, giving orders to some SWAT officers who are moving into position on the second floor. She runs over, and flashes her badge, managing to not pant. "Sir, are you in charge?"_

_He turns to face her, and nods. "Captain Blundell. You must be Detective Eames."_

_She nods. "Where's Detective Goren?"_

_He gets a little uncomfortable. "He went in to try to get the weapon away from the guy and save the two children."_

_Alex freezes. "You sent him in there?"_

"_Mr. Rankin wasn't responding to the phone, and we were afraid to get too close after we heard from the officers at his house that there was a rifle missing. Your partner argued that to get the children safely out, Rankin needed to be defused. He was convinced that he could do it, and since it felt like we were running out of options, I let him after we talked with a maid to get a passkey."_

_He's in there. Without his weapon... Without his knife... "Tell me he's wearing a damn Kevlar vest," Alex demands as she heads up the stairs, needing to do something._

_Blundell squirms as he follows her. "He refused one." He halts when Alex nearly spins around on the steps, flashing a shocked expression. "Rankin seems unstable, and Goren argued that the very hint of a vest might send him over the edge. I tried to talk him into wearing one, but he was adamant. In the end, I felt we had no other choice, and he didn't seem worried for himself."_

_Alex's heart starts doing rapid-fire somersaults and twists and spins. She can't even feel her lungs breathing as she races up the stairs, stopping only when she encounters the SWAT team. She can see the slightly open door the team's eying, but she can't hear anything. No voices, no sounds of a struggle. Is that good or bad? Blundell whispers to the nearest SWAT officer, "Heard anything?"_

_An almost shrug. Confusion? "Their voices were raised for a moment, mostly Goren's, but it calmed down pretty quick."_

_Okay, no shots. No violence. He must still be okay. Please, God, keep him that way..._

_Suddenly the guys right by the door flinch, and Alex tenses. "Clear!" Bobby's bellow makes Alex's heart leap against her throat._

_The SWAT team bursts in. The leader shouts, "Get down! Down! Get him down! Get him down! Let me see your hands behind your back. Now!" Two officers without protective gear rush in, for the children. After a moment, she hears a shaky unknown voice. "I didn't hurt them. I would never hurt them." Two of them drag out a haggard version of the man in the pictures at the Rankin house._

_She briskly walks in after the geared officers come out, putting away her weapon only when she sees Bobby is unharmed physically. Relieved to have the chance to see him rubbing the corners of his eyes on either side of his nose as he tries to digest what happened. The gymnast that had been her heart not log ago finally quits its routine when Bobby drops his free hand and raises his tired eyes to her. While she scans him for psychological damage, the unconscious children are carried out. Thank you, God, for protecting him._

_But her heart does one last air twist when Bobby pumps the rifle and keeps pumping even when only two bullets pop out. The sick bastard... "Only two shells," Bobby whispers, his eyes slowly turning to her, aching from horror, and looking away every few seconds, his other hand gesturing at nothing. "One for each child. He was planning to walk away." Those details are hitting Bobby harder than the risk to his own life._

_Alex can only shake her head at the denial Rankin exhibited. "Charlotte Fielding's lucky." The rage seeping in surprises her. "She'll never know what a worm her white knight turned out to be." I need to get him out of here, before this weighs him down more. So she turns without another word, glad when she hears his footsteps behind her, stopping only to grab the jacket he discarded on the floor._

She has to resist another urge to sigh. God, that had been too close. He hadn't given a single thought to his own safety. He didn't attempt to justify his actions. Probably couldn't even if she'd asked him to. He was absolutely silent on the walk to the car, when she had to help him buckle in, and on the drive back to One Police Plaza. Silent like he is now, she notes as her eyes dart over, seeing him still dazedly staring ahead.

_Bobby has been sitting in the Captain's office for thirty minutes already. Deakins and Carver are both there, giving him an earful for disregarding more rules than any of them care to think about. Alex sits in her chair, half-watching as she thinks about her reaction to the last few hours of the case. Trying desperately to make sense of the intensity of her thoughts and actions._

_Nearly an hour later, she's run through several scenarios and is no closer to an answer. What the hell was I thinking? No question Bobby's a friend, but I've seen cop friends put themselves into much more obvious danger and didn't react anywhere near as strongly as I did. Why did I panic? The last time I reacted that strongly I was waiting to hear on a bust that went horribly wrong._

_That bust ended Toby's life._

_Alex's eyelids and eyebrows go wide when that memory pops into her consciousness. She reacted to her partner putting himself into a dangerous situation with the same intensity that she had while she was waiting to learn whether her husband had been one of the injured or killed cops...? She sits up straighter, losing all awareness of the rest of the world. I got that worried about Bobby Goren? My eccentric, brilliant, intense, eclectic, extremely observant, gentlemanly, cares-deeply-about-children, empathetic, vulnerable, looks-threatening-but-is-really-a-big-teddy-bear partner?_

_Then I've... Oh, my God... How...? It's only been about 18 months since I wrote that new partner request, and now I-_

_The sound of Deakins's door opening snaps her to reality, and to the fact that several people are staring at her, though trying to hide it. The onlookers turn their complete attention back to either their conversations or paperwork. She hears her partner's footsteps, and it's all she can do to not fidget. But Bobby, much to her relief, looks totally oblivious to her thoughts as he sits down. Being lectured isn't anything new to him, so that probably explains why he doesn't have any clue._

"_That took over ninety minutes," she drawls, making sure to control her tone. "I expect Carver to give you lectures, but it looked like the Captain was giving you his own tirade."_

_Bobby sighs. "They both wanted to make sure I knew how many regs I broke." His hands fiddle with the top contents of his open binder. "I spared them a lot of time by reciting them off the top of my head. Remembered almost every one." He's still thinking about those shells, and how close those children came to dying at their father's hand..._

_Alex sighs. I suppose I can't really complain about his dwelling on it right now; it gives me enough time to recover. But I need to distract him before he spends too much time on it... "Bobby." The complete sentence tone draws his eyes up. She's managed to pull her face together. "I don't want to have to break in a new partner. Promise me you won't do anything like that again."_

_He stares at her, slightly puzzled. You don't realize that anyone might care about what happens to you, Bobby? She waits for an answer. Finally, his shoulders sag in defeat. "I'll try."_

_Another sigh escapes Alex. I guess that's all I'll can ask... "I think you owe me a margarita." That at least gets that soft grin he gave her when she nearly pleaded with him earlier that year to "promise me a margarita" after they finally caught the murderer of an abortion doctor. His "done" smile, as she calls it. Okay, he'll be fine._

Her eyes dart over to him, checking whether he has the slightest clue as to the direction of her thoughts. But he's still staring straight ahead, oblivious to the rest of the world. Alex swallows another sigh of relief; her secret is safe for now.

As highly as he clearly respects me, as well as he treats me, and even though I may be the closest thing he has to family... There's no way to know how Bobby Goren would react to learning that I, Alexandra "Alex" Millicent Eames, his partner and best friend, have fallen in love with him. Especially given how poorly he thinks of his own worth... and given his apparent insecurities about his ability to handle relationships... And that letter... He thinks so highly of me... How could I ever tell him...? What would he do...?

She's roused from her thoughts by sighting the funeral home. Bobby comes back to the world as she pulls into a parking spot. It's starts raining as he forces himself out of the car, walking numbly – yet quickly – to the front door. Alex has to sprint after closing the door and pressing the remote to lock the car so she can catch up.

He's already inside and has asked for someone; the secretary has already called for the person. Alex reaches his side just as a black guy a few inches shorter than Bobby opens a door. "Detective Goren?"

Bobby nods, and walks forward when the man motions him to come in. Alex follows, and the man finally notices her. His puzzlement registers on Bobby's awareness, and he quietly explains, "Oh, this is my partner, Detective Eames. She insisted on coming."

The man just nods, and urges them both to follow him. No words are said. Neither bothers to remove their hats or gloves. Alex's worry increases as she notices Bobby's entire being tense with every step. She's the last to reach the room, and she almost opens her mouth to ask what's going on when Bobby stops.

Then she sees the body. An old man, face drawn and the wrinkles suggesting a lack of joy in his life. At least in the last years. Who...?

Alex glances at Bobby's drawn and confused face. And then something clicks in her head. She turns back to the old man's face, and sees a few features that are oh-so familiar...

"It's my father," Bobby whispers.


	2. Chapter 2

PART TWO

Bobby doesn't dare look in Alex's direction. He doesn't want to see her reaction. While she knows him well enough to not show pity, she's never been privy to this part of his life before. The shock that he suspects is on her face – he can feel it, he's often able to sense when she's feeling something strongly – isn't something he needs to actually see.

Alex pulls her gaze away from the dead father to the... surviving son. The myriad emotions on his face are slowly fading, giving way to the mask that he wears while they're in a delicate situation on a case. Where the slightest hint of their true feelings could destroy any shot of uncovering the truth. How like him...

"I'm sorry for your loss, Detective," Mr. Hemmerick gently says. "And I'm sorry you had to find out the way you did."

Bobby tightens the mask, making his posture as unreadable as humanly possible. Clearing his throat, he strives for a neutral tone. "Did he leave any instructions about what he wanted for his services?" He walks over, not feeling that Alex needs to hear any of this.

She **is** busy eying the similarities and cataloging the differences between father and son. She knows from the one time she accompanied him to Carmel – during the Christmas break, and Alex brought a small present – that Bobby's hair and eyes come from his mother. His gentle, sensitive nature as well. The overall shape of the face, as well as the complexion, however, matches his father's. The rest must come from recessive genes...

Alex runs through in her head what little she's been able to piece together about Bobby's father. She has to struggle to remember anything. He's barely told me about his brother, let alone his father. I could tell that things were strained at best between them, but...

Her musings don't keep her from overhearing the conversation. "He was looking into his options," Mr. Hemmerick says, pulling out some forms. "He said he was going for our least expensive option, but he hadn't actually signed the forms."

Bobby suppresses a grimace. Cheapskate to the grave. Why am I not surprised? "He say why?" Same tone, tinged with the barest hint of bitterness.

Mr. Hemmerick acts like he doesn't notice, although Alex suspects the man's experience in dealing with families has given him a decent dose of perceptiveness. Probably good for business, she guesses. "He said he needed to check his finances. Make sure they were in order first. Told us it shouldn't take long, and that he'd call back next day. That was about three days ago. When we didn't hear back yesterday, I called him. His landlord answered, saying that Mr. Goren was dead, and that an ambulance was on the way. The ME looked at him and declared a heart attack the cause of death."

Bobby pauses to absorb that, not noticing that Alex is paying attention. Inhaling deeply, he removes the bitter aspect from his voice. It won't help him... "And I wasn't informed sooner because...?"

Mr. Hemmerick sighs. "We had to dig – literally – through his papers to find contact information for **any** next-of-kin. Two names were listed. You were one of them. The other was a David J. Goren." He looks inquisitively at Bobby, and Alex turns to face them.

Bobby releases a slow breath. He quietly, flatly, answers, "He's my brother." So my father remembered to list me in his final papers. Why?

So that's his brother's name, Alex thinks. What happened between them that makes it so hard for Bobby to even talk about him?

"We attempted to contact the number written for him," Mr. Hemmerick continues, apologetically, "but it was a company number in Tacoma. None of us could reach him."

"You tried that number before trying mine?" His flat tone conceals the mode of his thoughts, of how he's not surprised that David would be listed as a contact, but he still can't figure out why **David** isn't the one handling this. He was Daddy's boy, Bobby remembers bitterly, after all...

Mr. Hemmerick clears his throat. "It was listed first, but your father didn't have **any** personal contact information on either you or your brother. We had to look you up to find you."

That makes Bobby blink. No contact data, not even for David? They were always close, even after... Dad left us. Apparently even after David left home after college. What happened to change that? "Last I heard, David was often traveling and could be difficult to reach." His voice implies that no further questions should be attempted there. He doesn't see a need to explain that his own lack of knowledge of his brother's location is because he hasn't spoken with or to him in years. Not nearly as long as the last time I... spoke to... our father... "I'll try leaving a message for him."

So, Alex notes, the task of settling the old man's estate will fall entirely on Bobby. The younger son, who is filled with conflicting emotions about the whole deal. She stays put, but her eyes remain on Bobby, watching his decision-making process.

Mr. Hemmerick's gentle tenor draws their focus back. "Mr. Goren mentioned that we shouldn't wait long for his funeral. Apparently doubted that there'd be many who would come."

It takes all of Bobby's willpower to keep his eyes from bulging as he looks at the other man to check the truth of that statement. No sign of a lie. What the hell?

Alex is facing just the right angle to catch Bobby's reaction. How to read it is another matter. Did his father knew lots of people when Bobby was young? I'm not sure whether he's relieved or shocked.

A few seconds of thinking leads Bobby to decide to focus on that question later. Get everything else over with first. He maintains the neutral voice, needing to stay in total control of himself. "The signs up front said you can make arrangements with a local church on behalf of the family."

"Yes, and he did specify a church." Mr. Hemmerick's voice turns more professional as he hands Bobby a paper listing the Catholic church closest to the part of town where the apartment building is. "I have a list of dates and times right here."

Bobby takes it and scans it. Get it over with as soon as possible... Pointing at the earliest date and time listed, he sighs, "Monday the 24th at 9a.m.."

Because his back is facing her, Bobby doesn't see Alex flinch at the date and time. Dammit! I won't be able to be there for him, to support him by just being there. Not when...

Alex tries to speak, but can't make her vocal cords work. In the end, she realizes that she has no reason to give suggestions about when to hold the funeral. I'm not family, and this is the wrong time to tell him.

But she isn't about to let him handle the rest of the arrangements on his own. Not for a nano-second.

"One last thing. The landlord said that he'd appreciate it if Mr. Goren's belongings were cleared out within a week," Mr. Hemmerick says, hands and posture suggesting that they're actually near the end of this conversation. He adds as a gentle afterthought, "He indicated that he might be able to assist if need be, and that he'll have boxes ready whenever you come by."

Bobby sighs, but Alex can't read through the mask that's settled on his face. She's still not sure whether the calm that he's exuding is a good sign or a bad one.

If Bobby could read her last thought, he wouldn't be able to tell her which it is. His thoughts are too much of a mess, and he's found that reading himself has never been a good idea. "Well, I appreciate the boxes and I'll probably need them, but I'll tell him that I'll clean it out myself. I'll check his financial papers tonight to see how the expenses will be covered." He clears his throat, bracing himself for the task. "Thank you for all you've done."

Alex holds her tongue as Mr. Hemmerick nods and shakes the hand Bobby extends. "You're welcome, Detective. If there's anything else, you have my card there," he says, pointing to a business card held against the other papers with a paper clip. "If you want another few minutes here, I understand."

Bobby nods, more out of courtesy than anything else, and turns back as Mr. Hemmerick walks out of the room. Bobby stops in front of the casket, and stares. What were you thinking in those last few minutes? What kind of a life **were** you living?

Alex watches him out of the corner of her eye; he doesn't like being stared at on a good day, so she suspects he wouldn't like being stared at now.

Bobby finally sighs. "I have to go check his finances, see how the funeral expenses will be covered, and I might as well start clearing the apartment. If you could drop me off, I'll get a cab back home. I'll get to work on time tomorrow."

"Bobby." Her voice forces him to actually look at her. She's not going to drop me off. She's coming with me. He opens his mouth to protest, but she say simply, calmly, says, "I want to help, Bobby. You don't have to be alone in dealing with this. Besides, the clearing out will go faster if **two** people do it."

He sees the gentle offer, and cannot refuse. In any case, he knows better than to complain about expediency. Especially regarding matters that he would rather **not** be dealing with.

So he lets her lead the way back to the SUV. What she said bounces inside his brain. "You don't have to be alone in dealing with this." She wants to help, his mind struggles to absorb. Can I accept it? Help isn't something Bobby can remember getting much of throughout his life. He had to learn to handle everything by himself. He found security in that solo reliance. Which is why it's very hard to cooperate with partners. Sure, he can, but there seems to be a limit.

When they enter the vehicle and close the doors, Bobby glances at his partner. The one steady, calming force in his life. As they buckle in, the idea of having support next week becomes a beacon of hope. He manages to whisper, "E-Eames?"

Alex's hand, ready to put the key into the ignition, stops. Her eyes dart over. "Yes?" Why that tone? He stammers a lot when he uses it. What's making him so uncomfortable?

Bobby takes a few deep breaths, needing the time to prepare the question. He's never asked her for anything that wasn't even slightly connected to a case. God, this is harder than I thought. When he sees the concern in her eyes turning into alarm, he plows ahead, still whispering. "Do-Do you think... you could... come with me to the funeral?"

The keys nearly fall out of her hand as her eyes and mouth pop wide. Oh, my God. He's asking me for a personal favor. He's letting me into a very private part of his life... Maybe only a little bit, but a part I knew next to nothing about until now. Wait, I still know next to nothing about it. Any increase is measurable in fractions of a degree... Given that Bobby won't mention him at all... The old man must've done something Bobby finds hard to forgive, and Bobby doesn't seem to hold grudges, so it **must** be bad...

"Eames?" Her silence worries him, making him raise his volume to the inside-the-car level. She's stunned, he thinks, because she didn't expect this from me... I've never asked anything from her... personally.

Alex pulls herself together, swallowing. This is it, she silently acknowledges. I have to come clean. Her eyes drop from his face, to help herself start. "Bobby, I..." She swallows again, willing her voice to steady. "I wish I could. I really do."

He's very glad he worked so hard on developing such through self-discipline; without it, his disappointment would radiate so much a blind man could've seen it. Alex – he can't call her that, but that's the name he uses whenever he thinks about her – would... Well, he's not sure how she'd react to the intensity of his disappointment, but he can't take the chance. A grimace crosses his face before he can stop it. "Another doctor's appointment?" No rancor, no frustration is allowed into his voice. Just a flat tone.

He's right, but he's got no clue about the why, she thinks. He wanted my company, and asking took a lot of courage. I have to tell him. She clears her throat. "Um... Yeah, but it's not for me." When he frowns, eyes darting to hers, she hastily adds, "Well, I'm the one who's having something done, but it's a favor for my sister."

Bobby's confused. "What kind of favor? Is she still sick?"

"No, Sheila is fully recovered, but the cancer and treatments had a serious consequence. Her ovaries are damaged. The eggs are useless, and her uterus..." Alex pauses, struggling for the right words as her eyes drift back to wheel. Her hands move aimlessly as her voice leaks her empathy. "The doctors' don't think she can safely carry another child, but she and Edward want another child. Badly. They thought about adoption, but they want the baby to be related to everyone."

He blinks. What does this have to do with her...?

Feeling his confusion, Alex takes a deep breath before looking at him. He deserves eye contact for this part, she knows. "I've been getting hormone injections, and being regularly examined, because I've agreed to donate eggs to them **and** to carry the baby." Her breath nearly catches, waiting for his response.

Bobby's unable to move. A surrogate and egg donor? She's okay, she's always been fine, his mind races with relief. She's fine...

So he's absorbing that. Alex observes. Better add the other part now, while I have his attention. "I'm finishing the last of the injections this week, preparing for the retrieval."

The tension of earlier falls to the wayside, allowing Bobby to focus on the reasons behind the past few weeks. Wow... "That's... that's incredibly generous. You really want to do this?"

A genuine smile slides onto her face. "They're great parents, and I'd do a lot for my sister. Besides, I get to experience what it's like to bring a life into the world without it interfering with my job too much." This isn't the best time to mention the necessity for a temporary partner...

A tiny smile crosses his face as the bounds of how far she'll go expand in his mind. "There's really nothing you can't do, is there?"

Alex drops her head, feeling her cheeks warm. Don't look him in the eye, she cautions herself. You might see more than you want him to... "Thank you." It feels inadequate, but what else is there to say?

His mind starts making connections, and he sighs. "So is that why you can't come? The retrieval is at the same time?" The realization fails to pull his slightly lifted mood down; he can't stay upset with her for long. Hasn't been able to since about a year after they met.

She sighs, nodding. "But I want you to know that if you need company or someone to talk to, call me. Even on that day. I'll be out by around noon and I'm having lunch with them, but after about one I should be free. Don't worry about about infringing on my time with my family," she adds at the reluctance on his face. "They know I'll want time alone after the appointment, so we're not planning anything after noon. You wouldn't be imposing. If you just want to sit around and not talk, that's fine. I'd be happy to help in any way I can."

Bobby purses his lips. Does she mean that?

"I mean it," Alex stresses, spotting the hesitation. "Just keep it in mind, okay?"

He takes a few deep breaths, and sighs, "Okay." I wonder if I'll remember come Monday, if I'll be too distracted... Those thoughts bring him back down to where he was before his opinion of her took a huge leap.

Alex nods, and starts the engine. Bobby swallows heavily, his mind already switching to the... task ahead.

Less than thirty minutes later, Bobby unlocks the door into his father's apartment. He takes a deep breath before slowly entering the unknown territory.

Alex slowly follows. Casting her eyes about the pigsty, she's reminded of visiting her brothers – the Terrible Twins, as the family called them – Chris and Elliot at college. This place looks worse than their rooms did, she grimaces. She wonders how long it'll take them to find anything in this mess. **None** of my brothers at their worst, in college or not, were this messy...

"He never was much of a housekeeper." The quiet voice startles her, and her eyes dart to Bobby's face. Unreadable expression, but his eyes... There's a moist, distant look. Flash to the past...?

Bobby is reminded of how his mom was the one who kept the home clean and organized, and how his father couldn't organize if his life had depended on it. He walks around, trying to get a feel for what life his father had led in his last years. Trying to gain an insight into a man he knows so little about, but cannot forget. The man whose approval he sought for so long... all for naught. Maybe Bobby would finally get answers to why his father did what he did. Then again, he realizes and not for the first time, maybe I don't want to know...

The kitchen and living area are basically one room, divided by the island the sink is in. One table, overflowing with papers and books, stands in the middle of the room. An old oak desk rests against the wall opposite the bedroom area, also overflowing with papers. Bobby stops in the kitchen area, standing in front of the sink, staring at the number of TV dinner boxes and plastic utensils still on the counter top. His eyes take in the TV stationed across from the sink. He stood right here, Bobby thinks, eating over the sink while he watched TV. Apparently habitually, given the crumbs around the sink. Bobby's eyes also notice the avocado pits in the glass of water on the raised part of the island. Dad never cared for having plants in the house. What are those doing here...? A little sign of life?

Alex scans the room, not finding anything that makes the room feel personal, including photos on the walls or tables or shelves. Her brain struggles for explanations. He wasn't that type? What's the deal...? Didn't want reminders of what he'd thrown away?

Bobby's eyes turn to the bedroom. He twitches at the idea of setting foot in there, but... it has to be done. I survived his words when we last spoke, he tells himself. I can survive this...

Alex hesitates about following him. Alex never likes setting foot inside her parents' bedroom; she always feels like an intruder. Probably started when she became a preteen... Bobby almost certainly would rather be having root canals on all of his teeth at once – without proper meds – than be there, she's positive, but with his thoroughness, he just **has** to walk through it. Though he might prefer that she not step in there, she follows, obeying her protective instinct.

Actually, maybe I should clear out this area myself, she thinks. Bobby can't possibly want to touch his father's really personal things; he's probably already wondering where they've been and what they've touched. Or who's touched them. It might spare his heart and mind a lot of grief if he doesn't have to pack them, and spare his mind from thoughts that will only add to the pain.

Her eyes case the tiny room. Not much in the way of personal possessions. The bed's on the floor, with simple dark blue sheets and a comforter. And one pillow. All unmade, but only looking like one person slept in it. A breath she didn't realize she was holding escapes her, relief that the old man had been alone. Probably didn't have time to make his bed before his heart gave out, if he made his bed on a regular basis, she speculates silently.

A dresser made out of light-colored wood, with three drawers and a rack that's attached on top, in the corner next to the large window with dirty gray blinds covering the New York night-time view. A black nightstand with a small lamp, on the right of the bed. On the nightstand are a few books of Tolkien's notes on "The Lord of the Rings," published after his death by his son Christopher. "The Silmarillion" rests on top, with several bookmarks in it. Was he catching up to compare the movies to the books, Alex wonders, or just reading for pleasure...?

Clothes are all over the floor, like he didn't have the energy or the urge to pick them up unless they needed to be washed. Pants, socks, shirts, sweats... Nothing nicer. Maybe some hanging in the closet. Folded clothes on the drawer were probably the only visible things that were clean.

No pictures on the walls, nor posters. No photos on the dresser or the nightstand. Aside from the mess on the floor, the room seems impersonal. Like anyone could've lived here. And no evidence of any girlfriends. Thank goodness for that, she thinks. In Bobby's current state, Alex has no clue how he'd react to such evidence, and she doesn't want to find out.

He turns around, sighing. "Let's get this over with." His bitterness, frustration, and other emotions he can't be bothered to identify radiate off him, filling the room.

She nods, going for a helpful, quiet voice. "I'll start the packing. You okay with going through the papers?"

Bobby looks hard at her. Part of him still wants to do all this by himself, but thinking about the extra time that would take makes him relent. May as well get that done, he thinks, and I know what to look for. "Okay," he whispers, walking back into the living area.

Alex is surprised at how easily he agreed. Guess his preference to not touch his father's things until he has to allowed him to accept my help... Or, she thinks, maybe he's grateful I insisted on helping... If so, he'll get around to showing it probably in a few weeks. If the past is any guide.

Within minutes she's taping up boxes, preparing to pack everything she finds, while he's sitting at the desk in the little living room, sorting through the papers to determine what financial state his father left behind. The analytical nature of the task was better for him than the more mindless one of packing things that he might not be ready to see right now.

Besides, packing allows Alex to let her mind safely wander and gives him the silence he certainly wants. Although she questions whether silence is the best thing for Bobby, she doesn't know what she would talk about, and there's too much she needs to sort through in her head. Also, he can't stand sympathy, even from her. He's never seemed capable of accepting sympathy or understanding from anyone, probably because he's received so little of either throughout his life.

They've only been at their respective tasks for several minutes when Alex's stomach starts to complain about the hour. A glance at Bobby says he didn't hear it. She promises her stomach that when Bobby's ready to leave – or when she decides that they're ready to leave for the night, whichever comes first – she's taking them to the first place she can find with decent, inexpensive food.

And if that place happens to be a pub... Well, going and getting drunk might look like an improvement on his current state to Bobby. Then again, when she stops to think about it, does she really want to deal with a drunk Bobby Goren...? Given all he has to deal with, all he's been through in his life, he might not be a pleasant drunk... And I'm a lot smaller than he is... Oh, he wouldn't hurt me, even under the influence, but he'd be awfully hard to drag around if his ability to move is impaired. I have a hard enough time dragging him around when he's stone cold sober.

Alex starts by throwing every bit of obvious trash from the kitchen into bags. A few damp paper towels take care of the crumbs on the counter tops. Some of the food in the fridge, freezer, and pantry are still good, so she figures a stop by some shelter is in the queue in the next day or so. She can't imagine that Bobby would take any of it home.

Opening one cabinet over a now bare counter top, she pauses. Well, I suppose that Bobby might consider taking some of this... Seems his father had a good and wide-ranging taste in alcohol, Alex observes. And if he doesn't want any of it... I might take it off his hands. After all, one thing my wild college days taught me is that good booze should never be allowed to go to waste...

Suddenly, Alex recalls all the times she and Bobby had drinks. He always sticks to one drink, and rarely finishes what he orders. Even if she has more to drink, she rarely has to let him drive. Despite her size, she's always had a high tolerance for alcohol.

Her breath catches in her throat as a possibility dawns on her. Daddy Dearest was an alcoholic. That's why Bobby won't let himself get drunk... He doesn't want to know if he's like the old man... Alex takes a moment to gather herself, to resume cleaning. Guess I'll offer to take them off his hands.

The kitchen doesn't take long to be cleared, aside from dishes that she puts in the sink to soak and the food that she'll put into bags later. She moves on to the books in the living room, stored on a shelf right by the bedroom door. As she tapes the bottom of a U-Haul box, preparing to pack said books, she does a once-over on the titles. Paul Goren owned an abundance of books in various fiction genres and by many authors, mostly sci-fi and fantasy, but with some mystery mixed in.

Tolkien, Niven, Pournelle, Heinlein, Asimov, Clarke, Zelazny, Herburt... They're all there, along with others Alex has heard of, and some she hasn't. And every one of the books has been well-thumbed, Alex notes as she puts them into the box a few at a time. Finding her own thoughts too dicey to dwell on under the circumstances, she focuses on the books, recalling her experiences reading them. All of their best works, along with some she doesn't remember.

Alex's own collection of books runs all over the fiction arena. Oh, it leaks into non-fiction; some of her college textbooks, law enforcement manuals, and a couple of psychology books—among other subjects—grace her shelves. She wanted to be a cop for as long as she can remember, and she's always had an interest in psychology; she knew it'd give her an edge in fighting crime. Her interest in the subject has increased since Bobby entered her life over four years ago.

The non-fiction isn't more than a few books on horses. Nothing to suggest what the man did for a living...

She reaches for the next books without looking, and freezes when she sees a book on schizophrenia, published just last year – a huge deal was made over it, and Alex bought a copy during a sale – and it looks like the old man read it a lot; it still has the sticker from Barnes & Noble, and the middles of the page edges have been stained by oils from fingertips. A torn piece of paper serves as a bookmark, sticking out the top. Alex opens to that page, sees more evidence of frequent reading. Especially over the section that indicates that schizophrenia can manifest itself under serious stress.

Feeling remorseful at the end, were ya? Started to think if anyone could be blamed, maybe it was **you**? Too little, too late, you sorry old bastard. She clenches her teeth, imagining the pain and suffering his family went through because of him walking out. Alex stuffs that piles into the next box immediately; she can't imagine that seeing it will do anything other than add to Bobby's already conflicted emotions.

That he's holding himself ramrod straight in the chair – unless he has to really reach for something – screams that he's holding everything in, that he's scared of what might happen if he lets it out. Frightened that he'll scare her away?

Maybe that's why he's always so careful about what he says to her, around her, and about what he does when she's nearby. Even when they first met – she still clearly pictures how startled he was to realize that "Alex Eames" was a woman—he was nothing but a gentleman. And once she showed a high tolerance for his quirks, he started sharing his theories and ideas more readily. The few times they've argued, it's been about the current case, hypothesis, or plan.

Not for the first time, Alex ponders the extent of how careful he's become around her. He doesn't want to risk doing anything that might drive me away, or even make me think about leaving him. Cringing at the memory of what nearly got her to leave, Alex needs a few seconds to shake off the mood. I'm not leaving him now. He doesn't realize that it would take something horrendous to do that. And that would require an extreme that she's convinced he's incapable of. He's not a violent person, and, while he'll go quite the distance in capturing the bad guys, he keeps himself on a tight reign.

But his control can be shaken. If the correct buttons are pushed... Alex rapidly shrugs off that painful memory before it comes into full view. Focus on the present, detective.

She doesn't know because she didn't look back in time, but Bobby **did** see the book before he sat down. He froze, no idea what to make of it. Dad wouldn't even hear anything about it after he was told, he recalls. Four years his behavior continued... then he was gone... Out of the house for good... Mom served him the papers soon after...

Seeing your mother basically clobbered in court isn't good for any kid, let alone one as sensitive as Bobby Goren. Especially when he didn't realize that being that wasn't a bad thing. The glares David gave him, those silent accusations, all weighed heavily on Bobby. Hard for a child that young and that sensitive who was made to think he was worthless to not think that he was to blame for his father leaving. Or for his mother's illness...

Bobby shakes his head, standing slowly. "I'm not sure if there'll be enough to cover the funeral," he informs Alex quietly. He stares at the papers, pushing out, "A few too many times at the horse races, it looks like."

Alex contemplates what she could say, but draws blanks. Guess I should remain quiet on that, she decides, continuing the packing. "So what now?" Maybe if I keep him busy, he'll be a little better off.

He sighs, not getting anything off his shoulders with it, and walks over to join her. Being here, Bobby knows, it's like being back in childhood... The feelings that weighed you down come back full force, leaving you as confused as ever. He lifts a pile of papers off what looks like a stack of old newspapers to sort it, and sucks in a breath.

Alex whips around at Bobby's gasp. "What is it?" She rushes to his side, putting down the books in her hands, to look over his shoulder. She blinks several times when she sees what stunned him. The top paper features a Ledger article from a month ago that mentioned Bobby. She grabs it, and finds an article from another paper about the same case.

What the hell...? Bobby's brain is working overtime, scrapping for any idea why the man who never hid his dislike of him would have these... His hands grab the papers, uncovering more and more articles – going further back in his NYPD career – about very public cases.

Alex helps him, feeding off his shock. She's positive that every time he made the papers is in here, the stack is so thick.

The whirlwind inside Bobby's head quickly becomes too much for him. I'm gonna get a headache... He tosses the papers to the floor and pushes himself up. "Let's get more of the packing done," he grunts, moving to put together more boxes.

Alex stays put momentarily, noting the heightened tension in his shoulders and back. Oh, God... Her heart bleeds for his pain. What did he do and say to you, Bobby? She evaluates her options, hoping to think of something she can say or do to help. Nothing comes to mind, so she silently sighs and resumes packing the books. I need to stand by him till Sunday night, and then after the appointment. Even if he fights me...


	3. Chapter 3

PART THREE

Bobby watches the cemetery workers respectfully lowering his father's casket into the ground. His hands are clasped in front, as most of the others are doing. The priest's words are the traditional words for when a person is buried, yet they go in one ear and out the other. Bobby's grateful he didn't have to give a eulogy; what would he have said? Talk about how his father had failed his family? That abandoning them left scars that look too deep to ever heal?

With the casket settled and the workers starting to cover the grave, Bobby moves to stand to the side to accept the condolences of the few who attended the funeral. His father's words were accurate: just a few friends around his age, and a few people from his apartment building. Bobby supposed that was a blessing for himself; it meant he wouldn't have to be here too long.

However, it also re-enforced what the apartment told him, that his father had died a lonely old man. But, Bobby keeps asking himself, did Dad regret his choices? Did he wish he'd stayed with Mom through her illness, no matter what it cost him? Did it finally occur to him what burdens he put on David? Or me? Did he... even think... kindly – just for a split second – of me...? Did those papers mean anything, or... was he in disbelief that I made something of myself?

Growing up, it hadn't mattered what he'd learned to do, what project he'd completed, or what athletic prowess he showed. Nothing ever got his father's praise or attention. If he did get looked at, there was always a loud yet voiceless message that Bobby heard clearly for as long as he can remember... Even before his father actually said it to his mother, neither realizing that their children overheard any of their arguments...

_Mommy and Daddy are yelling again. The voices are hard to miss, given they're in the kitchen and the boys are in the next room. Eight-year-old David tries to ignore them, focusing on the math book their father gave him to work on. But three-year-old Bobby's eyes are fixed on the kitchen door, hands clutching the blocks that his mother gave him for his birthday. A complex little building is forming from his efforts, but he can't put the last ones in place with the noise; hearing them argue makes his ears and head hurt._

"_Paul," their mother pleads, "Bobby is your son as much as David is. He **deserves** your time and guidance. You ignoring him isn't doing **any** of us favors!" She never yells, except at their father._

_Both boys clearly hear a glass slam on the counter. Bobby got a glimpse of their father pouring something from a bottle when he got home from the factory. Whatever it was, its strong smell drove Bobby to cover his nose at the time. A harsh, slurred voice blares, "Nothing will come of that sensitive runt of yours, Frances. I'd be wasting my time."_

_Bobby knows the word "sensitive" because his mommy taught him it when he asked not long ago. She told him that being so aware of what's around you and so affected by it is a gift, something that he'll benefit from. But his daddy... His daddy's words just hurt._

"_How **can** you say that?!" Their mother's voice is usually soft and soothing, but around their father, her voice has become harder. She has to get his attention when dinner's waiting for him, when his signature is needed for some bills that he fails to notice... Bobby's vocabulary is growing fast from listening to the arguments, including some words that Mommy refuses to explain to him..._

"_Because a boy **that** sensitive will never become a man," their father snaps. "If he were the girl you were supposed to give me, then that behavior would be **wanted**!" He storms out, not looking down. Bobby scrambles to get out of the way, but his project is knocked down by his father's foot. Paul scowls, but doesn't stop moving. "Pick that up, Bobby," he grunts, heading to his room._

_Bobby stares at the ruin, and trembles, tears falling as his throat chokes on a cry. Suddenly, his mommy scoops him into her arms, whispering an Italian lullaby to soothe him._

The movement of the apartment neighbors snaps Bobby's mind out of the past, and he takes a slow breath to compose himself, actually grateful for the distraction. The condolences aren't taking long, and they quickly blur together in his mind. Few of them know anything about "Leo," the nickname coming from his middle name. When the name began or stuck, Bobby doesn't know.

The final neighbor – a woman with short, dark blond hair who looks at least ten years Bobby's junior – stops in front of him. Her eyes contain the look of someone who either wants to talk a bit, or is just curious about her late neighbor's son. Sympathy flows from her face. "I lost my dad a few years ago. It's quite a shock, isn't it?"

Bobby's not sure how to answer. This woman – whose name he doesn't remember despite her introducing herself earlier and then sitting nearby during the service, and he can't bring up the energy to ask again – has no clue what hot buttons she's dangerously close to pushing, or that he wants to get this over with. Never mind that she reminds him of the woman he wishes **were** here, the woman who made herself available for phone calls or visits every night since Tuesday. The woman who is right now demonstrating her infinite selflessness by giving her sister a priceless gift...

"Um, y-yeah, it is." He can't think of anything else to say. He wants nothing more than to flee and find some way of forgetting for the rest of the day, of hiding from all the memories that have been hitting against his head since that day last week. But he can't. Not when he believes that every death deserves acknowledgment, and when he feels an obligation as the only family around.

A faint smile ghosts on her face, like some memory slid into consciousness. "I'm sure by now you've heard enough about how he was no trouble as a neighbor, so I'll spare you."

"Even to the women in the building?" The question is flat, escaping his mouth before he can stop it, suppressing a flinch a second later. The complete lack of evidence of any female setting foot in there didn't prove to him that his father's habits had completely lost all opportunity to be active. As Professor David Canter, when defending his belief in the existence of Erika Windemere, said, quoting Godel's Incompleteness Theorem, "Every axiomatic system will contain truths that cannot be proven. But the absence of proof can be proof." Therefore, the questions would continue hounding Bobby.

The woman shakes her head. "All the women there are much younger, and... prefer 'em closer to our ages." She clearly counts herself among them, her behavior showing gentle interest. Gentle because any other kind would be inappropriate for a funeral.

That interest makes the urge to flee and hide stronger. It makes the yearning for Alex greater, and he's not sure when she'll really be up to being around him. He spent some time reading on IVF, and how the retrieval itself tires women out. When he'd brought that up with her yesterday, before they both left work, she promised she'll be alert enough. "I see," he mutters bringing his attention back to the present. He numbly extends his hand to the woman, hoping to politely indicate that he's in no mood to chat. "Well, take care."

She returns the handshake. It's not a loose grip, but it's nowhere near Alex's firm grip. "See you around," the woman says, finally picking up that she'll get nowhere with him even in a few weeks, and walks away.

The relief over her departure increases with the sighting of the one person he's met through this ordeal who he's glad he met. "Ferdie," he quietly greets the man, extending a handshake and a tiny smile. Ferdie is someone his father met at a horse race several years ago, and they also went to pubs together. He must be the closest to his father of all the "friends" here; he was named the executor of the will.

Which basically meant what was left after the expenses were paid, and that was a pittance. Bobby had been expecting to hear that everything was left to David, but the will only said that the division of the possessions was up to "my sons."

One more thing that hasn't done his peace of mind any favors...

But Ferdie seems like a good man, and has treated Bobby with kindness and respect from the get-go. It made their meetings – always at Mulligan's, Ferdie's favorite pub, after seven at night – go easier. Especially since Alex was unable to accompany him on any of the occasions.

Ferdie, astutely guessing that Bobby isn't up to talking, simply clasps Bobby's extended hand with both of his, a soft understanding of loss in his eyes. "If you want to talk, you know how to find me."

The willingness to leave him be is a relief, and Bobby knows it shows in his face. He can't talk, but he smiles in gratitude, whispering, "Thank you."

Ferdie manages a small smile. "Good luck, Bobby," he wishes as he releases the younger man's hand and walks away. To work, home, or Mulligan's, Bobby's not sure.

The remaining friends mostly say a quiet "I'm sorry," offer a handshake, and then leave. A few mention a brief, innocuous anecdote about horse races or the pub. They all blur in Bobby's mind, and he's forgotten the details within seconds of the last one departing.

Then Bobby finds himself alone. The workers have finished covering the grave, and are picking up their equipment. They nod to him as they carry or wheel away everything. Bobby stays still until they're out of earshot, watching the whole time. He shivers as the winds blasts in his face, and fastens his overcoat, suddenly cold despite the suit and coat. When the workers move out of his line of sight a few seconds later, his eyes drop to the fresh earth covering his father's remains. The remains of a man who, in Bobby's mind, has always been both an enigma and a transparency. Never at the same time, though...

He remains perfectly still, unable to go forward, yet unable to leave. Why won't you move, feet? I've done my "duty" as a son, since David's nowhere to be found apparently, and there's nothing else here. So what am I doing standing still? Since he left his cap in the car – knit items aren't considered appropriate to wear at funerals – he should be moving to warm himself, but taking the best care of himself isn't something he's diligent about.

Footsteps drift into his ears, coming from behind. A man's, if he's not mistaken. Years of cautious instincts push him to turn around, and his body turns solid.

A man about his height and size is walking toward him. Short brown hair tinged with gray at the temples, a face weighed down by the past and present, and eyes... that Bobby knows well. Holding his arm is a tall woman. Dark hair flows in waves below her shoulders, shorter strands framing her gentle face. Her soft blue eyes allow the world to float into them, focusing when she notices the direction she's being led.

The woman is a stranger to Bobby, but the man isn't. Even if it's been almost thirty years... It takes several tries before he can make a whisper come out of his mouth, and by then, the two are a few away. "David." He barely keeps his voice flat, controlling the shock.

David clears his throat. "Bobby." Guarded, cautious, careful... Anyone would know that they're brothers with that same tone of voice, despite the differences in their actual voices. David stops after speaking, staring at the ground as though avoiding meeting his baby brother's eyes. He takes a breath before quietly adding, "This is my wife, Rebecca. Rebecca, this is my brother, Bobby."

Rebecca's eyes brighten in genuine pleasure – tempered by the gravity of the moment – as she extends her free hand. "Hi. I'm glad we finally got to meet." Bobby – stunned that his brother actually showed, and floored that he brought his wife – does the only thing his manners allow: he extends his hand. "I wish it could've been under better circumstances," Rebecca adds, quietly.

Bobby scans her as discretely as he can, allowing his senses to wake up to gather information. Every vibe she's giving suggests that kindness is her middle name, that she might be the type who doesn't say anything bad about anyone. How did my brother get her? He just nods, and clears his throat. "So... How long have you two been together?"

Rebecca answers, voice still gentle yet clearly audible. "We've been married seventeen years, and known each other for nineteen."

Usually, Bobby's fine with letting silence dominate; it drives the other person or people he's talking with to fill it. But somehow, he needs specific answers, and questions are needed for that. Rebecca's apparent ease around him makes it easier to talk with her. David's stony expression says that he hasn't changed since they last talked, so answers probably won't be forthcoming from him. "You met in Tacoma?"

"Yes," Rebecaa answers, apparently fine with filling the silence. Her voice is open, friendly. Like David hasn't told her anything about me, Bobby suspects. I doubt anything he **might** have said would've been nice toward me... "David had just joined Norris and Brown, a firm in the city, and their office was in the same building as the editing company I work for. We saw each other regularly, and it grew from there."

Bobby lets that float in his mind. Mom said that she and Dad met at the library where she worked, which was on the way home for him... "Are you both still there?" He asks her, hoping to kill time, to delay having to speak with David.

"He is; David's a senior partner now." Her eyes and voice shine with pride, telling Bobby that his brother is making a name for himself with his work. "I still work for the same company, but I started freelancing after our oldest child was born. Gives me more time with the kids."

Oldest child, Bobby's mind repeats. I'm... I'm an uncle... He holds back a swallow. And I didn't know... "How many and how old?"

Rebecca smiles, memories clearly flowing through her consciousness as she lets go of David's arm to sift through her large purse. "Mia's fourteen, Stephan's almost eleven, Paige is six, and Zoe is nineteen months." She pulls out a small photo album and hands it over. "Here, I put this together for you. It's yours to keep. We would've brought the kids, but David couldn't afford to be away long, Mia and Stephan had tests, and when you've got a toddler..."

Yeah, Bobby notes numbly as he accepts the album, I can imagine that toddlers are tough to travel with. Alex mentioned a number of horror stories her siblings had... He opens it, and finds memory after memory that he's missed out on. He marvels at how Mia reminds him of his mother, how the younger girls look like Rebecca, and at how Stephan looks like a blend of his parents. He also notes how Paige seems a bit detached from her surroundings, and how... hyper Mia's eyes seem. Yet in other pictures, Mia's eyes are deeply sad, withdrawn... Uh, oh... Bobby feels another weight added to his mind. Signs that Mom's... curse... is influencing the family... But, his memory tells him, Mia's too young...

Silence dominates the area. Bobby can't hear the wind, the distant traffic noises, or his own breathing over his jumbled thoughts about his previously unknown family. Then again, Bobby generally isn't aware of breathing. Unless he's under lots of stress, in which case he forces himself to breathe so he doesn't pass out. David seems just as tense, and Rebecca is watching their movements, visibly puzzled by what she sees. Of course, the two haven't spoken in years, so no wonder they're not comfortable. Yet Bobby has to wonder, but does she know why? It doesn't sound like it from what Rebecca's said...

Putting the album in a coat pocket, Bobby takes a deep breath. "Why didn't you show up sooner, Daivd," he quietly demands, unable to stand the silence for once. He finally raises his eyes to look at his brother, challenging him to answer. "Why didn't you answer **any** of the calls about this?" Why did I have to shoulder this alone, he harshly thinks. Why did I have to make the final decisions for that coward?

David shifts, almost imperceptibly. Like it invites questions he's not ready to answer. "I quit speaking with him when Rebecca got pregnant with Mia." His voice is somewhere between a whisper and conversation level, but the tone is flat. "He said things I couldn't forgive about her, and I told him he could forget about seeing me or any of his grandkids until he took it all back. He never did." His eyes never leave the fresh earth before them as he speaks.

"This is the first I've heard anything about any of this," Bobby comments slowly, to maintain a semblance of calm. "Including your marriage and your kids." He goes back to staring at the grave – hoping that their father got some humiliation over his actions – as he tightly remarks, "Must've been bad for **you** to cut ties with him."

"I don't want to think about it," David hisses, apparently not noticing that Rebecca starts at his vehemence.

Bobby wonders what triggered that anger. He's remembering something, he notes. Hope Rebecca's not surprised by such behavior... unlike Mom... Taking a deep breath, he demands, "Then why show up? Why didn't you answer any of the calls about his death?"

David shifts his hands inside his pockets. "I didn't want anything to do with him after those remarks, and I told the people I work with to not forward any messages." His voice is tight, like when their father was telling their mother to back off on whatever she was talking about. "My secretary ignored my instructions when she heard from the funeral home. I didn't believe it at first, but hearing your message drove it the message through."

"And showing up this late?" You might as well have not shown at all, and just called...

Still staring at the ground, David's face tightens. "I didn't want to have to say anything in eulogy."

**You** didn't? Imagine how I felt, Bobby's brain growls. "I escaped it," he mutters "by telling the priest that I had nothing to say."

"Lucky." The flat tone fails to convey anything except indifference.

A tone very familiar to Bobby. "Yeah." His voice is quiet as his eyes on the ground. Now Bobby feels a weight on and inside his chest, like he's he constricted inside and out.

Silence passes, a long one Bobby's very aware of. He doesn't feel like breaking it; he's not sure what he could say or how they might react.

Rebecca finally can't stand the silence, and asks, "What about you, Bobby? You have a family?" Her voice is unguarded, filled with curiosity.

Bobby shifts uneasily, the constriction growing tighter. "No," he whispers. Don't think I ever will...

"No?" David finally speaks, eyebrow raised and his tone up a notch from indifference. He finally turns to face Bobby. "You were always good with the younger kids in the area. Why no family?"

Rebecca's eyes go wider, as if her body's been shocked and she can't figure out where this is coming from. Bobby takes a breath to compose to his answers. The ones his mind normally would think of are inappropriate to say in front of Rebecca. Starting with how come David even noticed what my interactions with kids were like... especially given how he didn't notice Mom's delusions unless they were extreme... But a number of things demand explanations... He rubs his face, letting some warmth back in, as he prepares his questions. "When you decided to have a family," he drawls slowly, struggling to keep his voice even, "did you stop to consider the hereditary issues?"

Both of David's eyebrows raise, an unconscious shock reaction, but it's another reminder to Bobby of their father. A gesture – albeit on a smaller scale – that he gave Bobby when he **did** pay attention to him... conveying how little he thought of his younger son. David's posture rapidly turns defensive, body language loudly declaring, I don't have to explain myself to you, **little** brother. "It's not a problem on my side," he tightly contends. "Why should I have let fear run my life?"

Bobby snaps around, facing the man he's considered possibly as unfeeling as the man who... sired them both. His voice raises, anger seeping in. "You are as much Mom's son as I am, yet you've **never** thought about the chance that **you** might carry whichever gene or genes contribute to it?" Memories of past arguments rush in, and his current circumstances feel like deja vu.

Rebecca's eyes widen, but don't look like they'll pop out, suggesting that she knows something. David simply glares, declaring, "Because I'll never have to worry about it; she was fine when I was born."

And wasn't after you were. The words might as well have been spoken aloud. Angered and stung, Bobby glares, his voice dropping to a harsh, low level. "How can you be that ignorant of the realities of genetics?" Part of him wonders about the relative sanity of his sister-in-law, and why she chose David. Softening his face as he turns to her, he asks, "Did he tell you about our mother?" He turns back to David, hardening. "I remember you putting off telling people about a lot of things about you and the family, but this..." Sure, Bobby does it, but when you live a largely solitary existence, it's no problem.

Unwilling to answer that, David pounces back before his shellacked wife can utter anything. "She knows that there's nothing for her to worry about," he snaps. "Our children are, and will be, fine."

Damn you for being like him, Bobby's mind hisses. You're not even seeing that two of your girls are soon gonna need help...! In the throes of the memories of childhood hurts, his eyes fail to notice an odd look in Rebecca's eyes at David's barb. "At least I'm taking care of Mom, which is more than could ever be said of you or Dad." It takes all his self-restraint to stop anything else from coming out, from frightening his sister-in-law, who his instincts tell him is basically an innocent in this mess.

David's eyes look as cold as absolute zero. "Mom never had any problems till you were born. Mom and Dad never argued until you were born."

The words silence all noises around them.

Staring into the eyes of his father's favorite, Bobby's body goes numb. Pushing down the boiling in his chest, the pressure in his sinuses, and the weight of the past. He pulls his eyes away to nod a small goodbye to Rebecca, and walks off before the glare in David's face triggers more words, which would only provoke more jabs. Too mush of what David hit close to home...

Now he's glad Alex couldn't come, that her gift to her sister took priority over her loyalty to him. At least she didn't see that, he thinks. Didn't see the open wounds I carry, that I'll always carry. But, maybe that wouldn't have happened with her here... No, he decides, he would've still behaved the same. I hope his wife can cope with that... She almost seems too nice to stand up to him...

The further he gets from the grave, the faster his legs take him. He no longer feels the cold. In fact, he can't feel much of anything. All he wants is some other place to be... He's starting a familiar pattern of coping: when the world starts overwhelming him, he shuts down, preventing himself from feeling. It's always been easier to do.

He reaches his car, a smaller and faster vehicle than the SVU Alex drives, and leaves. He and Lewis found the dark blue Porsche heading for a junkyard when all it needed were some skilled repairs. Expensive ones, but Lewis had the skills, so Bobby helped him with the repairs – working some extra hours at Lewis' shop to compensate his old buddy – and bought the needed parts bit by bit. The car gets great gas mileage, and is as healthy as can be. He's a careful driver, despite what some might think from noticing that Alex always drives. She drives because she likes to, and he doesn't mind the extra time to think.

As he navigates the streets of New York, he focuses more than usual on his surroundings; he wants the distraction to keep his mind occupied. Still, no destination is in mind. He comes across a parking area nearby Central Park, and sees open spaces. He cruises into one, gets the receipt, and starts walking. A little exercise might clear my head a bit, he reasons.

Bobby wanders around for a while – fighting to think about random facts to deflate his tension – before a wish to hear Alex's voice enters his thoughts. Pushing aside his clothing, he's shocked to realize that it's past one. She said she'd be done by now, he remembers. He pulls out his cell phone, and dials. Please, Alex, answer. Please let the appointment and lunch be over...

An automated female voice informs him, "The customer you are trying to reach is unavailable." Sighing, he hangs up before the message finishes. Who am I to take her away from her family if they want her around...? So he puts the phone back and keeps walking in random directions.

God, is it afternoon already? Alex's watch is confirmed by a quick glance at her sister's clock in the kitchen. The appointment started late – apparently not uncommon, since the docs and nurses want everything more than ready – and ran long. Alex remembers that she told Bobby she'd be done and back at her apartment no later than one.

**That** was a few hours ago.

The knowledge that he was going alone with something he should be supported through, as she strongly feels, has weighed on her all day. It remained on the back of her mind during the entire appointment, shoved from the front-lines by the details of the experience. How she was able to space out on her promise... Must be the medication...

She shifts in the chair, and winces. Damn, I feel like I need a long bubble bath to relax. Not for the first time, she's cursing herself for declining the Versed that Dr. Purcell offered to arrange for her. Sheila had gently told her that she didn't have to be such a tough girl here; what was the point of remembering an unpleasant experience when she didn't have to? But Alex insisted that painkillers and local anesthesia were all she needed. "I'll be remembering the birth, which **will** be more painful than this, or the implantation," she insisted, "could possibly be. I'd like to remember as much of this as I can."

But being mostly aware – the Vicodin and local anesthesia **did** numb all of her senses a bit – had allowed her to remember various details. Especially the interactions between Sheila and her husband, Edward. Oh, she loves her sister, who supported her through thick and thin. She's fond of her brother-in-law, even if she questions his sense of humor at times.

Most of all, she adores her niece, a talkative trouble-maker in the truest Eames sense. Sheila and Edward were with her during the actual procedure, while Valerie had to wait in the waiting room with Grandpa Johnny, Alex and Sheila's dad. Having him there for support was wonderful.

Yet watching Sheila and Edward's suppressed excitement and hope for a baby, Valerie's speculation about what her sibling might be like, and her dad's doting on his granddaughter brought painful memories to the forefront. Her last meals with Toby, their playful names debate, that last fight...

Her heart feels compressed by the reminders of what she's lost. Reminders of what may be forever out of her reach now...

But she wouldn't, couldn't let her family know; nothing would ruin their day of hope. Especially not her cancer survivor sister, for whom this was the only way to have a baby related to her... The chemo destroyed her ability to conceive, let alone carry, a child...

Alex heard about Sheila and Edward's pain, and their yearning for another baby. Wanting to help, Alex had realized she could. Figuring she could experience almost all of the work going into having a baby, but not have it mess with her job for more than a few months, she made the offer after a dinner at Sheila's, without any of the rest of the family present.

_Silence descends on the room. Only the noise from Valerie playing in the next room is in the air. Sheila and Edward sit on the couch across from Alex, eyes wide on focused on her._

_Sheila opens and closes her mouth several times before managing to speak again. "Alex, are you sure you can make that commitment?"_

_Alex smiles, willing them to be reassured. "Yes. I want to help, and you'll get a baby who's related to the whole family. I don't mind giving up my time and energy to do this for you."_

"_Even carrying the baby?"_

"_Yes."_

_Edward shakes his head to clear it. "Isn't your job a potential hazard? You're hunting New York's worst daily. No disrespect to your helping keep our streets safe, but how can you protect the baby at the same time?"_

_Pushing back the annoyance that threatens to surface, Alex reminds herself that they've been through too much already, and that the question reflects an unwillingness to take on unnecessary risks. She simply nods in acknowledgment, clasping her hands together. "I've thought of that, and I promise to be even more careful and reduce my exertions. Besides, my partner always has my back. I can get him to help look out for my safety, if it'd make you feel better." He already does, but she sees no reason to admit it. Why give them the wrong idea?_

_The couple glance at each other, engaging in a silent conference, before meeting her eyes again. Sheila voices their apparent mutual thoughts. "But... Edward's sister could be the surrogate. She's said she wants to help in any way. If so, then your options would be open." Alex stills, sensing where this is going. "Besides, don't doctors prefer surrogates who aren't also the donor?"_

"_Sheila," she slowly says, eyes and tone gently demanding to be heard, "I'd have to find someone first. With my job, that's a bit remote. If I did meet someone while pregnant, then I'll find out quickly whether he's okay. I also know I'm not ready to be a mother, but I want to experience pregnancy. You're already a mommy, and want to be one again. **Please** let me help."_

_Both are silent for a long time. Alex keeps her hands steady, and waits. How much more do I have to say for them to believe me? How much-_

_Her sister pushes herself up over to Alex and flinging her arms around her, crying, silences Alex's thoughts. "Thank you," she chokes through the tears, "thank you." The words keeping spilling out as Alex hugs her, knowing she's done a good thing already: give her sister hope._

With how much the family knew about Sheila's cancer and the effects of the treatment, the family was thrilled with Alex for volunteering to go through with the whole deal. Edward's sister Amanda protested at being passed over, but Alex held her ground and Amanda finally relented.

Today marks the start of a vigil that everyone old enough to understand what was happening – the younger kids wouldn't be told until there was something to tell the world – will observe 24/7, at least in the backs of their minds. The whole immediate family, on both Sheila and Edward's sides, knows, and stand ready to support Alex.

Assuming this works... A detail Alex tries hard to not think about. She's all-too aware that it can take several cycles at a clinic for anything to happen, and even then you're not home free until a few month into the pregnancy. You don't have to get medical help to know that...

_Alex sits in the exam room. She needs to be checked again. This morning she was bleeding again, and her mind has been fretting since the first bout yesterday morning. To her relief, Dr. Taylor, her OB-GYN of five years, could squeak her in today. She's gone to her for most everything since the woman proved to be respectful of Alex's goals and needs. Some docs just weren't..._

_The door opens, and Dr. Serena Taylor, a fair-skinned woman in her 40s with dark brown hair in a bun, enters with Alex's file. "Hi, Alex."_

_She exhales, not realizing how long she'd been holding her breath. "Doctor, thank you for fitting me in," she says, tone conveying the words as well, as the door is closed._

"_Well, I have the lab results here." Dr. Taylor moves to the desk by the sink, opening the envelope the report is still in. "Aside from the bleeding, how are you?"_

_Alex breathes in and out slowly. Then she tersely answers, "I guess as well as expected." Yeah, the back of her mind croaks in an attempted snort. I'm a new widow... Sure, I feel great._

_Dr. Taylor pauses to look back without a judgmental expression. Or pity. "Angry at the world? I can't blame you."_

_Alex bites back another snap. She doesn't deserve to be lashed out at, she reminds herself. She had nothing to do with any of this..._

_After scanning the report for a few pages, Dr. Taylor freezes at the last page. Her head slowly drops forward. Alex's breath catches in her throat as her chest begins pounding... No... No... It can't be..._

_She turns to face Alex, and slowly meets her eyes, unable to hide compassion. "Two key hormones aren't anywhere near as high as they should be. I'm sorry, Alex, but it looks like this wasn't to be, either."_

_Alex stares, and stares. No... She shakes her head, willing it to be wrong. No... **This** one was supposed to make it... It wasn't supposed to happen **again**..._

Alex puts her elbows on the table, resting her head in her hands. Oh, please, God, let this work... But if there has to be another try, her heart cries, please let it be because **nothing** happened, and please let the **next one** work. I've been through that enough. I don't want to have to go through it again...

"Tired, Lexie?"

Alex looked up at her father's quiet question, finding him standing at her side. She gave a wan smile. "Of course." Hardly a lie, she muses. I've got a dull ache in my privates, I might bleed later from the retrieval, and my head feels like a helium balloon and about as coherent. Dr. Purcell forbade her from driving until tomorrow, which means she'll need a lift back to her apartment. Which might not come soon...

To most people who've ever known him, Johnny Eames is a gruff cop you **don't** mess with, and messing with his family seemed like signing your own death warrant. **Especially** if you tried anything with his two girls. Of course, it helped that he also had four sons older than the girls... Add in an eager younger boy could be quite a nuisance to any anyone that Alex or Sheila – mostly Sheila; Alex always had other priorities – dared to bring home...

But to his family, he is a kind-hearted man with a powerfully developed sense of justice. His biggest mistake had been made out of desperate necessity; he had seven children to support, children he still wants to help. His smile is another reminder of that to Alex as he asks, "Need anything?"

She fights to not bristle, and to keep her voice even and low. "No, thank you."

Alex's only problem with her family is the nature of the support they often give. Her independent nature has gone against the grain of the family since childhood. They had their own ideas about what help she needed, and she had to keep proving that it wasn't what she wanted **or** needed. Her father – who she loves dearly, and whose example even more important than her academy days towards developing the cop that she is today – was the only one who recognized her "special needs," as he put it. As first he was indulging her tomboy predilection, but he realized by her eighth birthday that she really **was** more comfortable – and happier – in traditionally male hobbies and activities. So he compromised with his wife: Lexie would be trained in both areas, but mostly get to do what she enjoyed doing.

Her whole family – save her baby brother, who still looks up to her even now that he's taller – worried about her dream of being a cop like her daddy. The women in her family were mostly petite, and few could imagine why any woman would want such a job. Now that Alex is older, she can see why they thought – and think – that way. Some just had no interest in anything that's not in the traditionally female roles, and those who had interest never had the opportunities that Alex, Sheila, and the women of their generation have. When you've never believed that you'll never have access to something, Alex has learned, you're not likely to go for it even if you **want** it and there **is** a way.

They tend to forget that she can do very well on her own, and does. She just needs space to herself. In fact, Alex anticipates needing a lot of space over the next nine months; she wants to make sure that nothing ruins the feelings of her family in the coming months, and some time to herself will ensure that she can set her own worries aside. It's worked in the past.

Her dad gives her a quirky smile. One that any of her bosses or fellow cops would easily recognize. "You've earned the right to take it easy today. But I asked because you looked lost in thought, worried." He lowers his voice, giving his little girl – despite recognizing that her ability to scare boys **much** bigger than her would come in handy in law enforcement, his fatherly perspective hasn't completely changed despite her being a cop for over a decade – the privacy he'd give any cop he trusts.

Alex sighs. The whole truth cannot be said, but part of it – the part she's relegated to the back of her mind all day – **can** be acknowledged. "I'm wondering how Bobby's doing. The funeral has probably been over for at least a few hours now. He wanted me to come – moral support, I bet – and I think he was saddened that I couldn't."

"Well, it's a shame he had no support." he breathes as he sits beside her. "If I'd known right away, I could've arranged for a few of us to be there for him."

Alex hesitates. Since the... Nicole debacle, she's encouraged her family to invite Bobby to their gatherings. She told them the barest story possible, and said that she hoped the time around a real family might be beneficial to his well-being. Bobby resisted for a while, saying that he didn't want to intrude, but he relented when Johnny Eames practically ordered him to come to Christmas dinner. The sheer number of people had seemed a bit much when they drove up, but Alex had called ahead to make sure that her nephews and nieces were the welcome wagon; Bobby's warmed up easily to kids. By the end of the night, all of the kids thought he was the greatest thing since Santa Claus.

A detail that had puzzled Bobby after he overheard one of them say as much to their parents. When she was driving him home, Alex hadn't been able to resist asking why. His answer was typical Bobby "Arcane Knowledge" Goren: "Doesn't it bother you that the most famous giver of presents is named after the patron saint of thieves?"

Her surprise convinced him to invite her in for a few minutes to show her a book he had on Catholic saints and their stories. She asked to borrow the book, which came in handy on a case a few weeks later; she was able to name a saint he didn't recognize. Deakins had smirked at the shock on Bobby's face, once he recovered from the novelty of **her** being the one to throw out such a fact.

Shaking off the memory, Alex sighs. The lack of information about Bobby's whereabouts is getting to her, and Alex starts to get up. Her dad puts a hand on her arm as she braces herself. "Alex, there's no need to get up."

She pushes herself up anyway. "I want to check my phone," she quietly and firmly declares. "To see if Bobby's called."

Sheila, in the middle of putting away the remains of lunch, stops and waves her sister off from moving. "Sis, you don't have to get up," she gently insists. "I'll get it for you." By the time Alex opens her mouth to protest, Sheila's already halfway across the room, heading for the coat rack.

Alex swallows a groan. My family... Anytime I'm in some rough situation, or there's reason to worry about my health, they tend to forget that I'm **not** made of china, she mentally growls. That was so aggravating eight years ago, when two tragedies – one of which she's never told anyone about – occurred back-to-back, and it appears that she'll have to remind them of her self-sufficiency.

Her father stands and pats her shoulder. "Lexie, she's just anxious. We all are."

Alex nods. "I know," she whispers. More than you realize, she silently adds. I just don't like being waited on like this. Although, she has to admit, it would be nice to have support from someone who won't infringe on my habits... Even just for a movie or two... Not that I can ask that of him...

When Sheila comes back with the phone, Alex restrains her hand into merely grasping the phone and turns it on. The wait as it powers up seems longer than the several seconds it takes, and her lungs heave in disappointment when her phone only registers a missed call. Sighing, she pulls up the record, and blinks. Bobby's cell number. He called just a few minutes ago, but didn't leave a message. Didn't want to bother me, Bobby? She forces her face to stay steady; no point in letting the folks know how much that detail bothers her as she exits from the call menu to key in Speed Dial #1.

"Why are you checking in on him," Shane, the baby of the family – five years Alex's junior – and another cop, asks. "He's a grown man."

Alex sighs in frustration. "Partners looks out for each other, remember?" She grinds it out, standing before anyone can stop her. Ignoring the discomfort, and waving off her family's startled attempts to get her to rest, she declares, "I need privacy."

Sheila, remembering a few childhood arguments, decides it's best to back down. "The front study should be empty."

Alex nods, and walks the short distance, closing the door behind her. She's never been comfortable allowing anyone to listen in on their off-duty talks; she hasn't been his partner for four years without noticing how much he guards the details of his life, and good partners look out for each other.

His phone's ringing, so he hasn't turned it off. Which he did for that Rankin mess... No, Alex, she stops herself as she waits, don't think about that. "Come on, Bobby," she mutters. "Please let me know how you're doing..."

Bobby's progress – or rather, aimless journey – is interrupted by a cell phone ringing. It takes him a few rings to realize that it's his. He warily pulls it out, and glances at the caller ID. Alex, he silently sighs, not feeling quite so lonely now.

Just when Alex expects to be transferred to voice mail, a ring's interrupted. She almost sighs in relief when her partner's tired, flat voice breathes, "Hi, Eames."

Oh, no, she thinks as her chest becomes leaden. It sounds like his morning was worse than he'd thought it would be... "Hey, Bobby." Her voice conveys her first completely genuine smile since early in her appointment. Genuine because he answered. "Where are you?" Something tells her that he hasn't gone home yet, that his energy was on high and there was little chance he'd stay still.

Bobby sighs, hearing the restrained concern. After over three years, he knows that he really shouldn't be surprised that she cares, but he hasn't been able to let go of the past. "I, uh, I'm walking around Central Park. I needed to wander around for a while, be alone." Since you weren't there for me, couldn't be there for me...

The numb tone is enough to worry her; it's a sure-fire sign that a person's shut down their emotions, that they feel they can't deal with whatever happened. Alex knows Bobby uses it a lot. It's like he's balancing how emotionally involved he can get with the cases... "I'm sorry I didn't call right away. Sheila and the rest of the immediate family decided to have lunch at her place. I forgot to turn my phone back on. The meds must be messing with my memory."

Grimacing, Bobby knows that pain meds can make you forgetful. His knee injury in the army taught him that. He hates forgetting things, so doctors and nurses constantly complain about how stubborn he can be about what he will and won't take. However, he hears something else in her voice, something beyond the concern for him. Like she's holding something back. Since she's the expert at hiding real feelings, if **I** can hear pain in her voice... I can't tell her anything about my day now... "Everything go okay?"

The abrupt topic change accompanied by the same tone – save for a touch of concern for her sake – makes Alex's throat constrict. She manages a little snort for his benefit, to not let him on to her own troubles. "Typical medical office problems. They got me in late, and ran long."

I'm sure that all happened, he muses, but that's not all. "How are you feeling?" He allows concern to creep into his voice, wanting – desperately – for her to let him help. To give him an escape.

He's running from the events of this morning, she realizes sadly. Just as I'm wanting to escape the here-and-now... She sighs. "They warned me about it all months ago. I've got a few Vicodin pills just in case, and I'm forbidden from driving until tomorrow." She lets a touch of frustration into her tone. "Not like I was going to go near a muscle car," she groans. Her love of cars and driving is almost an inside joke between them. People might think he doesn't like to drive, but they never get to see him play with models of classic cars, especially ones owned by suspects...

A smile touches the edges of his lips. "Ouch." His voice reflects the slight mirth trying to push upward. "So... Are you back at your apartment now?"

She breathes in deeply, deciding whether she should tell him anything about the meal given that he just got re-enforcement of how little family he has. But she doesn't lie to him. Not outright, she reminds herself as that evil letter floats into her awareness. "No," she murmurers, pushing her big mistake back into the depths of her memory. "We finished lunch a few minutes ago."

He's silent, the pause lasting several seconds. He doesn't trust himself to speak evenly right away, so he forces a neutral voice back in place. "It's good they're supporting you the whole way."

His voice is back to listless... Thinking of him being alone with his misery, and the prospect of several more hours of unintended reminders for herself, alarms her. Prodded by the thought, she asks, "Bobby, do you have your car?"

His eyebrows pop up. Where'd that come from...? "Yeah." His feelings seep into his tone.

She can hear his reaction, and the slight emotion is reassuring. "Can you come and pick me up soon?" She can't stop the plea from coming through in her voice. Please, Bobby, her mind prays, don't ask. Just do it. Alex won't let herself ask who it's mostly for: him or her.

Now he feels his face nearly explode. Wait... She's with her family, her **loving** and **caring** family, and she wants to be away from them...? She'd rather be in the company of messed-up me? For Bobby, that's **definitely** cause for unholy dread. "Your family won't mind, will they?" He has to ask; he's seen how much they care about Alex, even if she keeps frustrating them, as she's told him.

"I got them to understand when I was checking on you last year. They'll understand now. And don't worry about being invited to join them today; they know better." All she hears is his barely audible breath for several seconds, but she holds her tongue. Even when the urge to say his name becomes nearly unbearable.

Finally, he exhales loudly. That plea is still there, and he can't be away from her if she's using that tone with him. "I'll be there as soon as traffic allows," he promises quietly, briskly walking back to the parking lot.

"Thank you," she exhales in relief, before she can stop herself. Great, Alex, she silently berates herself. Why don't you just tell him what you're feeling and thinking?

"Okay," he breathes, picking up the pace at what he hears in her voice. "See you soon."

"See ya, Bobby." They hang up, and she stands still for a few seconds, a series of possibilities for what happened on his end this morning floating in her mind. Alex sighs as her legs force her to sit, in Edward's reading chair. God, Bobby, what happened? What could hurt you more than four months ago did?

Meanwhile, he pushes himself to a run. What happened today, Alex? What made **you** want to flee?


	4. Chapter 4

PART FOUR

The hour it took Bobby to get there was one of the longest hours of either of their lives. Bobby had to push down the urge to speed to reach her, reminding himself that she doesn't need anything else to worry about today. His mind raced trying to come up with explanations for why Alex would seek an escape from her family. To him, an overprotective family is better than basically having no family to speak of... None to rely on... Of course, he knows, Alex will never know what that's like, thank God.

Meanwhile, Alex distracted herself by teaching her oldest nieces and nephews the more advanced rules of poker. She sat by the window so she could see when Bobby came. Her family started when she mentioned that Bobby was coming to pick her up, and the protests soon blended together. Alex had to raise a hand to stop them all. "He's not up for a crowd, but I know he needs my support." Because I'm the only one he trusts, she adds silently. "I promised him I'd be available after lunch, and I keep my promises to my partner. We can continue this later." She knew that the no-excuses tone would seem out of place to some of the family, but her father and all the other cops in the room understand the need for partners to look out for each other. "I'll walk you outside, Alex," her dad offered. She nods, and Sheila sighed, heading for the kitchen.

When Bobby pulls up, Alex's eyes are transfixed by the car. A midnight blue Porsche 914, in excellent condition. Lewis must be helping him baby that car, she marvels. I'm **going** to drive that sweet ride someday...

Of course, being a member of a family with lots of car nuts, Alex's plans of getting out quickly – for Bobby's sake more than hers – are **promptly** shot to hell. Her brothers and father, as impressed with the car as she is, crowd for a look. But not before her mother – through the occasional forgotten and misused words – and a few of the kids demand that Bobby come in for a minute.

By the time Alex and Bobby are inside his car and her father is leading her brothers back inside, Bobby rubs his forehead in an attempt to get rid of the added mental strain. Between her mother giving him a hug as she urged Alex to bring him to the next family gathering, the children clamoring for his attention through hugs or asking questions, Sheila handing him leftovers for later, and the interest in his car... My head feels like there's a fuse on it somewhere... I hope Lewis appreciates the calls he's gonna get from the Eames horde...

He lightly shakes his head, then glances over to check on his partner. He's stunned to see how... open her face looks. How... numb, like someone haunted by something and trying to flee it. It's a chance to forget the morning, and Bobby will gladly take it. Assuming she doesn't protest, the little warning voice in the back of his brain – the one that always catches him in forbidden thoughts – reminds him. Softly, he asks, "You want me to take you home?"

Alex's throat tightens. That empty apartment, warm only because of Java, is so uninviting to her mind. So... lonely. She barely brings her voice to conversation level, quietly pleading, "How about your apartment for a while?"

Bobby blinks, trying to absorb that request. She wanted out of her family gathering, but doesn't want to go home?

Then he remembers her determination to help him out, and her offer of company last week. She's living up to the promise? I didn't ask... I couldn't... But the need to ease the pain in her eyes quiets all resistance to her request. He nods slowly, and starts the drive.

--

Bobby opens the door for Alex, habitually letting her enter his apartment first. He closes and locks it, and seizes on any chance to distract himself, finding one quickly. "Let me," he insists, taking the coat Alex just shrugged off. If he were a little less distressed over the past week, he'd notice that Alex hardly reacts to his actions.

Normally, she handles her own coats, but Alex is willing to let him do it now since she can feel his need for distractions. Also, her senses are taking in the congested feeling of the main room, despite the obvious abundance of cleaning attention. He's been so overwhelmed that he's cleaned **every** surface here as a distraction, she sighs sadly, adding to whatever that cleaning lady does. The most spotless part of the apartment is the rocking chair that belonged to his mother. First time she ever went into his apartment, the same time she started helping him get over Nicole's antics, she saw the chair while Bobby was making dinner...

_He seems preoccupied by scrounging his small pantry for enough to make some pasta dinner for them. An Italian home-made meal? Sounds good to Alex. She's happy to sip her hot chocolate for the moment while Bobby focuses on the dinner. She's made him talk enough for the moment. Time to give him a chance to recoup, she decides._

_Looking around his apartment, it's not hard to see what a bibliophile he is. Every shelf has books on it, regardless of the type of shelf it is. An interesting variety of bookends help keep the books from falling over on the corner shelves. Each one probably has a story attached to it. Some look old enough to be heirlooms, maybe from his mother._

_One thing's certainly old enough to be passed down. A rocking chair with cushions that have to go back to the fifties or earlier. Alex walks slowly toward it, examining the contours of the wood and the details on the cushions. It feels well-used and very warm. The latter is unlike everything else in the apartment. At least, she amends, what I've seen. The bedroom's left, but I'll stay away from it unless I have reason to go inside. Everything else in the apartment speaks to necessity and practicality._

_Nothing about family. Aside from one photo album on the coffee table, which looks out of place... Alex guesses that Bobby usually keeps it hidden away. Possibly in the bedroom, or maybe in one of the shelves._

_Right next to the chair is a small maple wood table with a drawer. It almost matches the chair perfectly, but the wood design is different. Still, it could be old enough to be connected to the chair, if you assume that Bobby's kept both well-polished. He's certainly taken care of both of them. Alex circles them slowly, checking out every angle she can and noting the marks that show the ages of each item._

_Hitting a break in the preparation work, Bobby interrupts her contemplation with a gentle question. "Do you want-"_

_Alex looks up quickly when he abruptly freezes, and starts at the tension brimming in his body. This chair holds mixed memories for him, she suspects, and I'm stirring the pot. She takes a step toward the kitchen, hoping that the physical distance between her and his things will ease his mind and body. "They're beautiful," she says, allowing her admiration to show. "You've taken great care of them."_

_Bobby doesn't relax right away. It takes several seconds for his body to release, but his voice is tight. "They were my mother's." His gaze moves from her to the items in question, his face taking on the mask he wears all-too-often, in her opinion._

_She refrains from commenting further. She just walks back into the kitchen. "May I help out?"_

Since then, she stays away from that part of his living room. The topic has never come up again, but she always wonders about the story behind them...

Gliding over to the coffee table, she picks up the latest issue of the Smithsonian – she once checked and found it's an awkward fit on his treadmill, therefore he actually **enjoys** reading it – from a shelf on her way over. The topics don't matter; she wants an intellectual distraction, and it should provide material for her and Bobby to discuss.

The rustling of the papers catches Bobby's attention as he closes the coat closet, and his eyes widen. "Hey, you should rest a bit. I'll take care of anything you need."

She pointedly stares at him. "I need something to do." The words emerge quietly – but forcefully – from the back of her throat. "I had to leave my sister's house because they weren't letting me do **anything**. Don't act the same, Bobby."

Bobby watches her face, seeing the steel will in those eyes. Knowing how his partner hates being out of control, he realizes that he has to give her leeway. He sighs, "Okay. If you want to grab yourself a book or turn on music," he assures her, quietly, "I won't stop you. But promise me you'll rest the moment you feel tired." Please don't overexert yourself, he silently pleads.

Deciding that that's the best she can ask for, given his tendency to worry about her, she smiles. "Thank you," she breathes, lightly kicking off her shoes, the action declaring that she doesn't intend to leave a for a while. Besides, she silently adds as she also pulls off her socks, my feet need to breathe.

Bobby wishes she'd rest, but he's pleased to see her smile. It fees like a little sunlight is warming his insides. His freezing insides.

Yet, her presence is also placing a strain on him, a strain he can't quite identify. Well, he thinks as he remains near the door, it does feel like pressure on the... emotional walls. It must be her sadness, he reasons. If I can lift that, the pressure will go away. Bobby struggles for ideas, and stumbles on a solution. "Want me to fix some Eames Hot Chocolate?" Yeah, the constantly-helping-others part of his mind applauds, the comfort drink of cops that she introduced him to. That should work.

Alex grins, pleased at the thought. She injects a hint of dry humor into her voice – because it's always worked in past – as she answers, not turning to face him, "Sounds great. You sure you can make it without help?" Because I've always been the one who makes it when we're alone together, she recalls.

She doesn't see the little emotion on his face vanish in half a second. Bobby stills, swallowing to recover his voice. "I've been making every night since last week," he mutters, barely loud enough to be heard as he walks into the kitchen, dropping his jacket on a chair. Doesn't help shake off any of the day, he knows. Rarely has...

Alex sucks in a breath. Damn, I should have thought of that, she chides herself, sitting at the end of the couch for support. I hope I can help soothe his mind from... Her mind hesitates at continuing the thought, not sure how deep this round of heartache goes... Focusing instead on the magazine articles to keep from watching him, her detective mind – running at sub-par thanks to the medication and the day in general – trudges for a safe topic to make him feel safe talking. She finishes flipping through, as none of the articles grab her at the moment, and deposits it on the coffee table. Listening to Bobby wordlessly preparing their drinks, Alex isn't any closer to an answer to her problem. Even when he comes over with steaming cups.

Bobby, meanwhile, has been struggling to find a topic safe for both of them. Especially for her. Her family is the most important thing in her life, that he's known for almost as long as they've been partners. So, he wonders, what could've driven her away from them during a time that they all need to support each other, and her most of all? They've always been supportive of her and loved her, even if she took a path they didn't understand. Why would she want to be away from all that?

His numbed mind draws blanks. He tries discarding his tie to the counter, but even a freer neck doesn't make things clearer. Just makes his headache slightly milder.

For all his profiling skills, Alex has managed to defy them on nearly every aspect, but he usually doesn't put her under his mental microscope. It'd be wrong, he's always felt. It's a surefire way to drive someone off, so he never used it on any of his partners; doing so would've freaked them out enough to cause trouble for him. Besides, leaving is the last thing he wants to make Alex think of. There that time – almost three years ago now – that he thought she might do it; she was mad at his actions during a case. Yet it never happened. She seemed to give him another chance, and it doesn't look like she's regretted it.

But that she's still around in some ways has increased his worrying. It's too good to last, he's feared. And now, when that little extra profiling knowledge would really help, he can't call on it even if he wants to.

He clears his throat to catch her attention, and offers her favorite mug from his belongings, a zany mug he got during his brief stay in China while still in the army. The same stay where he learned the basics of Chinese chess, he remembers. She accepts the mug, distractedly. She looks as lost in thought as I feel, he slowly notices as he sits a foot or so away on the couch. He toes off his shoes and socks to keep them on a more equal level, and it also feels more like their past times like this. On more cheerful occasions...

As they both sip, Alex carefully examines his appearance out of the corner of her eye. He actually bothered shaving for the funeral – if he hadn't, she believes that nobody would've blamed him – and Alex senses he barely slept last night. If at all, she amends, recalling several bad cases that left him shaken. He seems to need a day or two to restore his sleep to whatever hours his body needs...

Seeing him sans jacket and tie is rare. Alex has seen him without a tie or a jacket at work, but never both at once. Losing both has always been a sign that he's unwinding for the day. It helps his mind play "snappers," she remembers with a tiny smile. He always puts up a good game, even he knows he'll lose in the end...

Finishing his drink first, Bobby puts his mug on the table. Seeing her still sipping out of the corner of his eye, he contemplates their options. Does she want quiet, or sounds to distract her, he wonders. Only one way to find out, he decides, lightly clasping his hands and resting his forearms on his lower thighs. "Well," he says, finally breaking the long silence, "what do you want us to do, Eames?"

That may be his habit, but Alex feels tired of it. In her mood, her family name is the last thing she wants to hear. "Bobby, we've known each other for over three years. At least call me Alex when we're alone, okay?" Her voice is laced with frustration and a plea.

He hesitates. Calling her "Eames" has served multiple purposes over the years. At first to simply keep distance between them while he saw whether she would leave like the others all eventually did. Okay, he corrects himself, I left the last one to join Major Case, but he would've left first had I stuck around much longer. Also, it was treating her as a partner, not simply a female cop. Bobby has seen plenty of examples of how hard women in the force have to work to earn a place in the "buddy-boy" system. Being attractive doesn't help, and he noticed early on that his new partner was pretty in an understated way.

Okay, he amends in his head when he senses that snarky voice coming up for an appearance, **extremely** attractive, although I'll never admit that I think that way even if someone else describes her as such. He shook his head at himself afterwards for claiming to Keith Ramsey that "hostility" was part of who she is. He knows that she's only hostile to those who deserve it. Alex tends to downplay her looks to assist the tough cop image she likes to project, which has been used to devastating effect. Now that his feelings have taken an unexpected turn, it tries to use those memories to keep her in that safe place in his mind. "Uh..."

Alex can't believe this. She started periodically calling him "Bobby" a few years ago, and she's increased it since. She'll even use it in public now with regularity. It'd be **so** nice to be addressed by my name, if only in private, she grouses. "Why won't you actually call me by my name? I've only hear you use it to refer to me while talking with a suspect or witness. Why, Bobby?"

His stomach feels like it's shaking. Why is she asking now, his thoughts stutter as his mind races to find a way to stop this train. "Look, I know there's been talk about us for most of the last four years. I don't want people to get the wrong idea because -"

She groans, rolling her eyes and putting down her finished mug. "God, Bobby," she grates, "all other man/woman teams I know of call each other by their first names after a while. Hell, Morelli and Brayder in our squad? Don't they call each other by their respective first names? They've been partners only about two years," she adds pointedly.

Crap, Bobby thinks. She's got me, and she knows it. But he can't think of anything to say. He can't bring himself to say her name, so he keeps his lips tightly closed.

Wanting some response, Alex decides to go for a little humor despite the circumstances. She smiles, encouraging him by saying, "It's not hard. Say it with me, class: "Alex."" She slowly enunciates both syllables, fighting to keep the smile from splitting her face open at the insanity of it all.

Bobby's lips twitch as his eyes bulge. What the hell...?

"Come on," she coaxes, grinning as a smile threatens to break out on his face at her sounding like an encouraging teacher, "say it." Humor me, Bobby?

A short, snorting laugh – the kind he gives when she admits to some unusual taste, such as having had an ABBA fan club card – escapes Bobby's throat before he can stop it, and a strong urge to continue laughing at the absurdity is right behind it. But he forces the latter down; letting too much emotion through is a bad idea. Nothing good has ever come from doing that. Not now, he feels. It's best to feel nothing, work towards that.

Except the concealed pain in this precious woman's eyes – even if it's not there at the moment – can't be ignored. Not by Bobby. If I can make her feel better somehow, he decides, then maybe the pressure in my skull will be relieved... He sighs. "Okay, uh... Alex..." God, that was hard, he thinks, but the beaming smile overtaking Alex's face makes the effort worth it. Strange, he notices, how nice her name feels and sounds on my lips... Maybe I'll call her that more often, if she'll smile like that in return... Maybe it'll help her feel better...

Alex's mind exclaims in joy, finally he's said "Alex" to my face! She's successfully passed through an important door that's been locked the whole of their partnership. "Now that wasn't so bad, was it?"

The tease in her voice draws another grin out of him, but it quickly fades. "Give me a while to get used to that. Old habits are hard to break."

She shrugs, muttering, "But not impossible."

"Yeah." After a few seconds, he asks, "So, what do you want to do?"

She sighs. "I don't know. I just..." What do I want? A few extra seconds only leads to one answer. "I just wanted to be somewhere quieter."

He blinks. He can imagine that such a procedure would tire you out, and that you might want to avoid noise for a while, but... I've never known her to leave a family event except for a call-in. "I could've driven you back to your place."

Alex leans back into the couch, scooting back a little so her lower back is supported. The movement allows her thoughts to organize themselves a bit, so she can seek an acceptable answer. Trouble is, she thinks, is it a good idea to say that I wanted to be there for him? This level of quiet hurt runs deeper than what he felt after Nicole's game, but she doubts that she can repeat her old reasons and convince him to let it be. Not in my current state. So... "Too quiet. Besides, I wanted... to make it up to you for not being there this morning," she finishes awkwardly.

Bobby's stunned, not sure how to respond. Part of him wishes she had been with him, but the other is grateful that she missed the argument between him and David.

They sit in an uneasy silence until she drops her hand over the arm and hits a plastic bag. Curious, Alex leans over to look, and blinks as she reaches inside. Alex's eyebrows pop up when she sees what it is. "What the hell?" Wait a minute, what are these doing out here? Bobby's such a private man. Surely these would be kept in the bedroom...

Bobby looks toward her, and freezes. Oh, no, if that's what I think it is... "Uh, Alex-" He stops when she stiffens, then pulls out a box. His cheeks burn when he sees the pack of condoms in her hand.

Her eyes turn to him, and lightly shaking the box, eyes questioning him without accusation.

He drops his head. "Um, um..." God, why didn't I remember to put that away in a closet? Well, that would've meant I had plans to use them... "That was part of Lewis' Christmas gift for me. A gag gift." He flushes harder as the memory of Lewis' teasing words come to mind. "Said that I... that I needed them with the car I've got."

Another eyebrow raise. Well, Alex thinks, I suppose I can picture Lewis being that kind of joker. Especially if they've known each other since high school... Although a 914 doesn't leave you with much space or comfort... Still... She voices the thought she's had since seeing the box, gently teasing, "And they're out here, unopened and in a bag, because...?"

He can't meet her gaze. Not when his body squirms this much. God, he silently groans, I never thought I'd be discussing this with her... Or with anyone, for that matter... "I... I've never needed them."

Alex blinks, eyes briefly narrowing in confusion. "You've had dates," she points out, putting the box down on the table. She's taking the chance that keeping it in sight will encourage him to talk.

Bobby shifts. I've never discussed my social life with her beyond **occasionally** mentioning that I had a date, he thinks, and hers doesn't come up much except for her to complain that it needs help. In fact, he can't remember her ever telling him if she had an upcoming date. At least not since October, he amends. "Yes, but the issue doesn't come up." Because I can tell when a woman's only interested in that, his mind gripes. I either don't ask them out or – if they slip through the initial radar – politely encourage them to find someone else.

Alex contemplates that. Why? She wants to know; her curiosity won't go away unless it's satisfied. "So... do you mean that none have ever gotten that serious?" She keeps her voice non-judging, to make him feel comfortable talking.

He clears his throat. "Alex, I, uh, I believe that... sex should be saved for marriage." I've seen what can happen when it isn't... He closes his eyes, red-hot pain searing him as he remembers the looks his mother gave his father when he came home, smelling of other women...

Wow... That might explain part of why he's such a gentleman, Alex thinks. It's not entirely a surprise; she's noticed that he's naturally shy, especially around women. Unless we're on a case and he has to charm someone into telling us what we need to know, she reminds herself. Then he can be pleasantly overwhelming. Not, she silently adds, that I've experienced it for myself... She shakes off the thought, bringing her mind back to the present. "Well, keep looking," she encourages. "You'll find someone eventually, someone you're willing to make the effort for."

What the...? Bobby drags his tired eyes – slightly widened in disbelief – to hers. The words seem overly optimistic to someone who's seen how easy it is for people to make poor choices in that department. "Alex, what are you saying? That there's this one woman who's "right" for me?" Sarcasm seeps into his tired voice, a tone that he uses on suspects to throw them off. It also works great for keeping people away, he knows. It's worked since high school... Normally, he'd never aim any frustration at her, but she's touching too many things he wants left alone. Come on, Alex. Drop it... I don't want to push you any further...

Alex wonders where that frustration and anger – which is probably traceable ultimately back to his father's treatment of his mother – is coming from, but manages to keep her voice calm without needing an extra breath. "Bobby, that's not quite what I meant."

Bobby rubs his forehead, massaging the tightening, constricting muscles. He motions for an explanation, murmuring, "Oh?" It's all he can trust himself to say at the moment. I talk too much when I'm feeling this stressed, he uncomfortably knows, I'm liable to say things I don't really mean to get people to back off.

He looks like he's got a four-alarm headache, Alex observes. Considering how to approach the topic, she decides to simply paraphrase what she heard over the years. "My siblings and I were taught that there are probably at least several people – at any moment in your like – out there who'd make a good match for you. Who those people are may vary significantly over your life, and maybe some might be better suited for you than others. I **know** that there are women out there if you're willing to look," she finishes, hoping to encourage him. That she feels a tiny twinge every time she's aware of his having a date or looking for one, Alex tries to not think about.

It's a nice thought, Bobby thinks mournfully, but it won't work for me. He stares at his socks, almost seeing what's left of his hopes melting fast out of him. He shakes his head with a sigh. "Not for me, Alex," he mutters.

Stunned, she stares at him. Ever since she stopped looking at him with an overly critical eye, Alex has seen plenty of evidence of his lack of a sense of self-worth. But to hear him say it, her mind whispers in a daze, is another thing... "Bobby, what are you saying?"

The thought that's been on his mind all his life – and increasingly over the last few years – hovers on his whole consciousness for several seconds. Do I tell her? When she somehow has this enormous belief in how valuable I am as a person? Bobby isn't sure whether deflating Alex Eames' opinion of himself would lead to her **finally** requesting a new partner, but he decides to let it out. Holding it back for too long never helps... "That I've got no chance of anyone taking a chance on me. Not with my family history. Not with who I am," he finishes in a despondent whisper. I'm not cut out to be with anyone, his mind continues as his heart bleeds further...

No, Bobby, Alex silently screams, no! Alex turns to face him more completely. Finding her sternest voice, she declares, "That is **not** true." See it, Bobby, she wills, see that!

The walls Bobby's built over the years are being battered constantly. Like from the ocean during a hurricane, he feels. God, he begs, please let her see that she has to stop, that I might do something rash if she doesn't... I don't want to do that... "Alex, stop," he warns, struggling to keep his voice from cracking under the strain. "There's no point-"

I will not let him treat himself like this, Alex feels. Especially not in my presence. "You **are** worth someone taking a chance on you," she interrupts with total conviction, raising her voice from quiet conversational to slightly raised. "You are a **very** special person."

How, his mind shouts, can you – of all people – believe that?! Bobby won't let himself yell at her, but before he can recover himself, he spits out, "Then why does **everyone** I've ever cared about eventually leave me?" He feels the dam, the levees, and the whole works cracking. He can't focus enough to stop the leaks, or to help her as he'd hoped to. He's unable to prevent his hands from shaking, or to hold back another bitter – and slightly louder – question about his life: "And if I'm special, then why is my mom the only one who sees it?"

The words, her mind numbly mumbles, the sheer anguish behind them... It all leaves Alex unable to blink. Oh, God, she silently asks, was his mother the only person who truly treated him well...? She swallows, pushing back her questions, beseeching him to listen to her. She starts another plea, a hint of fear creeping up on her over what might happen if he keeps holding everything in, "Bobby-"

His body starts shaking as well, the gigantic research lab-strength winds in his mind starting to be reflected in his motor control. Don't look at her, his mind screams in a panic, just don't! I can't imagine what might happen if I do, but it **cannot** be good... for her... "Stop it," he demands, more forcefully, "please!"

If he were anyone else, she would grab his hands to get his attention, but this is Bobby, who doesn't like being touched. And I can't stand by and watch him torment himself like this, Alex's alarmed mind thinks. As a friend... or as someone who cares too much about him... She shakes her head and leans forward, trying to make him listen. "Bobby," she pleads, "don't think like that. You're too damn hard on yourself."

The mental turmoil becomes unbearable. This isn't a hurricane, Bobby decides, this is approaching the intensity of the Big Red Spot. He wants her to stop, and struggles for the how. "Y-You've never known w-what it's like," he stammers in a rush, "seeing everyone... everyone you love going away." His hands fidget like nervous chipmunks. I have to convince her, but this might not be it... But the train won't be derailed. "E-Everyone w-who ever s-should have loved you did. No one ever l-left you."

Stiffening as she remembers all the things she's been trying to get away from all day, Alex finds an uprising of anger. You **really** think you're the only one who's had shitty experiences?! Her voice is cold and lethal. "I see... I guess being a cop's widow doesn't count..." Her own barrage is overflowing, and the previous need to help Bobby prevents her from shutting up, from stopping the outpouring of painful memories. "Or that I miscarried – **yet again** – after Toby died... Or that his family always thought I wasn't good enough for him and openly treated me like dirt after he died..." I certainly **do** know what it's like to be disliked and even hated no matter what you do...

His eyes nearly explode from shock. Oh, no, his mind whispers... I didn't think... I never thought... I hurt her... Realizing that leaves Bobby stricken. "Oh, God..." He tries to get up, but he's unable to properly control his limbs. "Alex, I'm sorry."

So am I, she thinks remorsefully, but it's more important to help you. She sees him pulling away, withdrawing. I can't let him do that, she feels. It can't be healthy for him to hold that much back for so long... She tries to not think about how worried she will be about what might happen if she just lets him go. Again, she pleads, urgently, "Bobby -"

How can she do this...? Bobby's brain is barely able to wrap itself around how she can stand to be around him when he's in control of his emotions. Now is beyond the impossible dream. "W-Why do y-you put up with me," he stammers as he fights with his shaking legs. Finally finding the coordination to pull himself up, he nearly whimpers, "How can you think I'm worth anything?"

That's it, Alex realizes in alarm, I can't let him go away. Not if he's in this mood... She evaluates her options, but only one comes to mind. I never thought I'd do this, she thinks as she steels herself, but I've got no choice... So she gathers the courage to do something she's always avoided: she grabs his arm, and pulls him back down with both hands.

The contact sends a shock-wave of energy through both of their bodies. Such a physical connection never existed on their undercover stints; both of them had to remain alert to threats and potential clues at all times. It's like they both keep their energy on a leash. Now, everything is loose, and the current is flowing freely between them.

Bobby sucks in a breath as the tremors become stronger at her touch. He won't look at her, can't let her see his eyes, but he does look at her hands out of the corner of his eye. Her hands transfer warmth to his arm, warmth that chisels further at his protective walls. Why can't I move...? Why do I not want to pull away...?

Alex's own body shivers, skin tingling where they're touching. Oh, God, she thinks as her heart becomes a pounding mess, this could be a problem... She swallows, struggling to hold down that feeling so she can talk. "Don't do this to yourself, Bobby" she begs. "You deserve better than this self-hatred."

He shakes his head, trying to pull away. The dam is about to break completely, he senses. Why can't I breathe? Why can't I move...?

I need you to look at me, she silently implores. But he won't. Okay, she swallows again, here goes nothing... To drag his attention back to her, Alex puts her right hand against his cheek and gently pulls his face to look at her.

Bobby gasps loudly when her hand makes contact, and his lack of motor control makes it easy for her to move his head. What the- Making eye contact destroys his thoughts, his ability to think coherently; her eyes hide nothing from him. Care, concern, and many more emotions than he's capable of naming right now are there.

Alex gasps at the raw pain bleeding from his entire being. His body still shakes while she gazes, transfixed, into his eyes. How deeply does it go, she wonders. Or do I want to know the answer...? Would he tell me...? Would he want to...? Softening her eyes as much as possible, willing him to see that she's going nowhere, she whispers, "You really have no clue how incredible you are..."

What... What... Bobby's mind grasps at regaining its balance, but it's a losing battle. The dam is breaking... and he's not trusting his ability to control anything now.

"I mean it, Bobby," Alex declares, gently tightening her contact with his arm. Her voice takes on a softer, more healing tone, as she adds, "I really do. **Nothing** will change my view on that. I don't care what anyone ever told you to think or feel about yourself, or who told you." She moves the other hand from his check to the back of his neck, and – with a feather-light touch – strokes the knots she can easily feel there. It helps trigger release, she remembers. It might, she hopes, help him feel better... "If nothing else, trust me on this, Bobby. I'm here because you **are** special, and because I care about what happens to you."

You are special... I care... Her words reverberate inside his head, bouncing against the weakening barriers. She c-cares... His waving attention is torn between her compassionate face and the tender fingers on his neck. Soothing... Saying it's safe... But, he asks himself, is it...?

Please, Bobby... don't fight it... Alex feels tears building as his silence lingers, her chest constricting further. "I'm **not** going anywhere, Bobby," she whispers in a balance of firm and gentle. "I'm staying right here with you."

Oh, God... Bobby's dazed mind isn't sure it's seeing correctly, but his heart is overwhelmed by seeing the wet corners of her eyes. She's-she's crying... She means... every word... The last bonds holding Bobby's barriers collapse, and his lungs explode into choking sobs. Unable to support his weight, he starts sagging down into the couch.

Alarmed by the depth of his anguish, Alex releases his arm and moves her hand to his upper back, over his frantic heart, drawing his head to rest against her shoulder. She softly slides her other hand to his lower back, to coax him into a deeper embrace. Has he ever cried about anything, she wonders as she moves her hand down his back, using the other to ease them both against the back of the couch.

It takes Bobby a few seconds to notice the change of positions, and his first though is, I might crush her... His arms slowly, hesitatingly, wrap around her waist with the idea of supporting his weight. But Alex just tightens her embrace, which re-enforces her words. So he starts clinging to her like a lifeline as she rests against the cushions.

His relenting into her offered comfort doesn't reassure Alex. Not when he's crying hard enough to make a wet trail down my arm... She hadn't imagined how intense the outpouring would be, but she hopes that he'll be better off once it's over. Aching for him, Alex leans her head as far into the crook of his neck as his tense and shaking shoulder allows. I need the contact...

Bobby can barely handle the shaking, his breaths raggedly in his throat, making his lungs feel raw. Yet his mind recovers some ability to think in sentences. Alex's touch, her embrace... Feels like a safe haven... Something I... haven't... had in over... thirty years...

When he finally begins calming, his sobs quieting, Alex has lost all track of time. God, is it too much, a tiny part of her pleads, to ask that Bobby gets some peace in his life? That he can feel better about himself one day...? Her worries are strengthened when he holds her closer, sniffling from the sheer volume of crying. "Oh, Bobby," Alex murmurs, "what's troubling you? Memories? Or this morning?"

The idea of not answering, or asking to wait to give one, doesn't occur to him. "Both." The word comes out in a whimper, his throat choking from making the sound. Can barely breathe, he notices as he tightens his arms around her. Focus on her breathes... Follow that pattern...

Alex senses that he's trying to switch his focus. Somehow, she learned to pick up on the subtle change in the immediate atmosphere that accompanies his changing mental tracks. It's more pronounced when he's hurting, her mind whispers. What happened...? "Tell me anything you're willing to tell me." I'm not sure he wants to tell me anything period, she suspects, but maybe he'll hear that I will listen and be there no matter when or where...

Her soft whisper, feather-like against his ear, feels like a life preserver on a line thrown to a man drowning in a raging river. I can't hold it back now, he knows as the words tumble out in a stammering rush. "Dad- Dad wished I w-was... a girl. Thought I was... too d-damn sensitive... to become a man..."

Alex feels a cold fury build inside her. What little empathy she had remaining for Paul Goren vaporizes. You... you asshole, she silently yells down in to the ground. You and your narrow ideas of what makes a man!

The debris keeps flowing out of Bobby's lips, made slightly louder from the increase in tears. "Heard him... tell Mom that... when I was three. Can't remember... him ever... smiling at me..." Memories of that at best indifferent gaze shoots his soul. Why, Dad, his mind cries. What did I do that made you hate me so much...? Why couldn't you... love me...?

Alex sucks in a hard breath at the first part. I can't believe... that anyone would say that... Let alone in the hearing of their child! Alex now wishes she could take back what she said to Bobby in one of their early cases. She told him that Kevin Donovan's biological mother owned half of what he became. I see that's not true... Bobby's father owns nothing of what he's become...

Bobby feels the air taken in by her mouth, and hears the sounds it makes. She's always hated seeing or hearing about children being mistreated, he thinks. "He'd come home..." Oh, God, can I even say this...? Wait... She was right there when I told that kid when we arrested him... "He came home smelling... of alcohol... and... and... other women."

Oh, my God... Alex's heart bleeds for him as she slightly tightens her hold. So he wasn't lying after all... There are many days when Alex wishes that the things Bobby tells suspects about his own life were always lies.

Swallowing down a lump, Bobby doesn't fight the rest of the memories. "Nothing I-I did... pleased him." Not even when I was... on that team... "No matter how... incredible Mom thought they were... He'd just ignore me... unless I was in his way..." I wishes I'd been able to avoid him in those moments...

Jesus... Alex rarely swears, but this is an occasion for her mind to do it. That bastard didn't know how lucky he was to have Bobby in his life... I know it was part of the times, but... did he use physical discipline too much...?

"H-He... focused on David... who was like him..." Too like him... **Far** too like him... "Traditionally male... Little consideration... for others... Pressured David... to excel. Never let up on him..." How could he have stayed close to our father?! After all that...? I **know** I saw him wishing for slack...

Memories of Robbie Bishop fly into Alex's consciousness. Of how an excellent memory and a desire to please could easily be mistaken for genius. The talk of pressure sounds too like Robbie's situation, she thinks, but the memory part always reminded me more of Bobby. A little boy... Bobby wanted his daddy's attention... his love... but would he have been better off...? She fears what the answer would be...

Not able to think of what Alex's thoughts might be, Bobby keeps letting the past slip out of his mouth unimpeded. "David hated me... Resented my... taking up... Mom's time..." I sensed it as kid... He sniffles harder as several moments flash by... "He wished... that I-I didn't exist." The words from this morning rush though his head.

Alex's eyes pop open at the word "hate," but she feels like they'd leave her skull if not for the optic nerve. "Wasn't it just childhood fear over not having your parents' exclusive attention," she softly asks, desperate to find another explanation. One, she hopes, that doesn't hurt my Bobby...

Bobby shakes his head, even though it's still resting against her shoulder. "No," he chokes. "David told me... this morning... In front of h-his wife... He m-meant **every** w-word..."

Alex finds herself incapable of letting out another gasp... Her throat joins her chest in being constricted. Oh, my God... That... that... How **could** he?! Her anger won't let her come up with a word for such callous behavior. The normal words, in a way, insult Bobby's mom, Alex knows, and I won't do that...

"Mom... she loved me, en-encouraged me to be myself." A tiny smile crosses his lips. Her stories, he remembers fondly, and her teaching... Then he sobers instantly. And then she... started hearing things that... weren't there..." His voice chokes, and the sobbing resumes.

On feeling the smile, her heart feels a little lighter. Thank you, God, for giving him some good times... But when Bobby mentions those early symptoms, Alex tightens her hold further, knowing what he means. What could it be like, she silently cries, for a little child to see that? And how could his mom deal with that...? On top of everything else she'd experienced...

After several seconds of sobs, more of the past finds its way out of Bobby's mouth. "Dad was angry. He... and David... blamed me. Even after the doctor diagnosed her..." How else can David not see the risk to his own...? Two of, he sensed from looking at the photos, will need help soon, but I pray it'll never be for... No, he silently cries, I can't even think it!

Oh, those two... For a few seconds, Alex wants to go find David and beat the crap out of him for his treatment of Bobby. But, she remembers, I can't leave Bobby... So, while Bobby releases even more repressed anguish, her mind ponders whether she could talk her father and brothers into doing her work for her. Finally, she reluctantly decides, No. No, that's only the least of what he deserves...

"Four years Mom endured his behavior..." I know now she shouldn't have, but then... "Trying to keep herself... and the family... together... before Dad... walked out for good. Mom divorced him... She'd had it with his excuses, but she never got him to voluntarily pay any of the court-ordered support. She always had to go to fight to have it seized."

Alex winces, cringing as she imagines the indignities that a woman losing control of her faculties had to endure in fighting to ensure that her child would be well-provided for. Then there was the matter of an eleven year old – and very sensitive – boy dealing with watching all that.

"But I didn't fully understand..." Bobby's face fills with shame, his voice breaking... "Even though he... was so different... I still looked up to him... I..." God, please forgive me for thinking it then... "I didn't blame him... for leaving..." I was such a bad son... "I blamed her..." He breaks down again.

Alex feels her heart breaking. How like Bobby, she feels, to react like a normal kid would, but feel immensely guilty about it... She waits for him, leaning her head deeper into his neck. Hoping her breathes will comfort him. Her wait becomes long enough that she decides to ask, "What happened afterward?" There's more still inside, she senses, and it might be better for him to get it all out now...

It takes Bobby a few tries to go on. "David... supported us... because he had to, and I-I... was the one who... took care of Mom." Because she responded better to me... He sniffles hard, vividly remembering struggling to balance school, which Mom always considered important, and making sure she could manage to hold on. "David only h-helped with-with her when he had to." I could hear him silently say it was my job... "I only remember him... helping a few times when Mom... Mom got violent." And only before I started growing rapidly...

Guess he didn't want blood on his hands, part of Alex thinks bitterly. She forces the feelings to stay deep inside, to not let Bobby sense them. Although, she thinks sadly, he's probably too caught up to notice... Not good either way...

"He left the house first chance he got," Bobby slowly continues, "when he got a full scholarship to Washington State." I'd almost reached full height then... and was growing muscle... "He was eighteen." And must've thought I could handle myself... "We've barely heard from him after that, but I now know that he and Dad were still in touch until after David married..."

After all he'd put him through, Alex wonders in disbelief. After dumping him with the family?! The only explanation she can think of is that the two had a very complex relationship, but she still doesn't care for David's actions... and would still like to knee some sense into him...

Bobby chokes on a lump in his throat. "Just Mom and me... It eased some things, especially... after we moved... to an apartment..." We didn't need all the extra space... Made us both too aware of what we lost... "I worked little jobs to help out..." We had no choice... "But Mom... She kept slipping away." No matter how well she responded to me... No matter what I did... "Just two months before I turned fifteen, she had a really bad spell..." Her worst one up to that point... "I misjudged how bad the... the delusion was, and she... gave me a nasty cut before I pulled back." I've got the scar to prove it... "It was nearly a broken leg."

Her arms tighten around him, to the point where she'll hurt him if she tightens them again, before Alex is aware of it. Oh, God...

"When she came out of it, she saw the bandage I'd created, and **knew** what had happened." Her eyes... Her face... "Even though she couldn't remember any of it..." Maybe, he's always felt, it's better that way... "She broke down... I couldn't console her... She w-whimpered that she was a danger to me... and she couldn't risk hurting me again..."

Alex sniffles. I'd feel the same way, she knows. I don't know what I'd do, and I hope I'll never have to contemplate it...

"Starting the next day, she was spending down her assets. Told me it would help ease our medical costs..." When she said that, he now knows, she meant that I wouldn't have to worry about paying for her care... "She transferred as much of her money to me as she could, bought things for my future..." Thanks to that, I own some small investments... "...sold off other things. She was researching, but I didn't know what she was looking up, except that they were all centers of some kind..." I should have seen it... I should have figured it out... I knew enough to know... "Next thing I knew, Mom admitted herself to Carmel on July 4th." Told me it was for my sake... I'm not sure I believe it even now... "It was 1976. Felt like... everyone else w-was happy... but I c-couldn't be..."

Oh, no... Alex swallows hard. Oh, no... It must've felt like she left him... No wonder he stays away from those Independence Day events... staying at home...

Bobby's voice chokes again. "She doesn't have many visitors other than me... We'd lost touch with all other family..." He presses his head harder against her shoulder, trying to push away the pain. She doesn't flinch. "David wasn't answering our calls... and Mom said... that she alienated her family by marrying my father..."

She must've thought he was worth it, Alex guesses, keeping herself totally still. Just like Toby thought that I was worth it... The tears fall at the memory, built up by Bobby's halting tale.

"Her priest, the man who christened us and officiated... her wedding, comes by twice a week." Learned a lot about patience from him... "Lewis comes every so often. We-we met in high school, and s-she helped h-him with some classes." Got us both through those horrendous lit classes... "He-he was living with his... his aunt and uncle..." Lewis' own family wasn't reliable, he remembers, and he also knows what it's like to have an alcoholic parent... "Mom met them at the parent meetings, and they got along..." She always did well socially, when she had control... "She got them to take me in, to spare me from foster care." But I never felt at home... Never felt easy... "They visit, too." They don't grasp it, but they come anyway...

Alex's heart constricts again, feeling like it's nearly cutting off her circulation. She wants to know where the rest of his family is, but decides that asking would be unwise at present. He might not even know... Instead, she remains still, holding him protectively. Wishing she could do something to help...

His body still shaking with tears, Bobby suddenly feels he can't partake in this comfort anymore. No matter how soothing, how warm, how... safe. I can't place more burdens on Alex, he's convinced. If I do, she'll leave... He tries to pull back, but finds himself pulled back down. "Alex," he whispers, "please let go."

"No, Bobby," she insists. "Let me help. You need this." I'm not letting go when you need exactly what you've been lacking for too damn long. I've let you go before, especially at times when I shouldn't have...

_Calling the airports to put out an alert is all she can do now, at least here. She closes the phone as a sobbing Christine Fellows is led away by one of the female officers. Crying because you helped free a murderer, Alex's mind snaps. Okay, we shouldn't have pulled that trick, we should've thought of something else..._

_Bobby stands there, where he was when Nicole Wallace first showed interest in him from that all-too fancy couch. The look in his eyes hadn't made her easy; he looked a little too close to actually being interested in **her**. And that was a recipe for trouble, which came this morning... Alex walks up next to him, looking at the view but thinking about what they could've done differently. Number one being let **her** at Nicole, and making **Bobby** leave the room instead..._

_Frustration high, she mutters, "What'd you think, she'd have scones and a glass of sherry for us?" She doesn't expect an answer right away, but the motion of one of the officers draws her away._

Alex swallows at the memory. Bobby didn't move until she came back over to get him. I shouldn't have left him there, she berates herself. I should have forced him to move away and join me. Maybe he would've done better... Maybe he wouldn't have thought about what she said so much... And, she adds, maybe the next time I left him to his thoughts wouldn't have hurt so much...

"_Whoa, whoa, where is she going?" Carver stares first at the screen, his face puzzled and slightly alarmed. Julie Turner, after getting the admission from her father that he knew what was in that photo, had walked out of the camera's view. Hissing at him over his not telling her about the photo – that **he** was in. "Where's she going," he asks again as Bobby stands._

_Alex's eyes go back and forth between Bobby's face and the TV monitor. He's weighing what Julie could be doing... Her own instincts are kicking in. There's trouble, they tell her, there's trouble..._

"_Is that what Mother did?" Julie's voice comes from off-screen, as lethal as anything Alex has ever heard. "Learned to live with it?"_

_Even as he's accused of being gay, William Turner just reacts in surprise. Like he had no clue she knew, Alex wonders in disbelief. Didn't he see that she sensed as a kid that something was "off?" She watches, alarm growing as Turner walks off screen himself, asking Julie, "What are you talking about?"_

_Comprehension dawns in Bobby's eyes, and Alex picks up the thread. Julie's about to snap... "Oh, no, we got to get in there. We got to get in there!" He bolts for the door as he speaks, and Alex goes on his heels. She can hear Carver and the two uniforms in that room following. The uniform outside the room takes off, too, following Bobby in front of Alex._

_Running in to save a manipulator from the daughter whose strings he pulled isn't how Alex – or anyone else in the area, she adds silently as she runs – planned this evening to go. Bobby pushes open the door, and Alex pulls out her gun as she has to stop momentarily to wait for Bobby to go in. As Bobby barrels in, they can all hear Julie's sharp voice accusing, "Mom did, but you didn't."_

"_Julie..." Turner's voice sounds desperate, but they only hear a slight thud over their running._

_Bobby gets to the office proper first, as Julie screams, "Bastard! How could you do this to me?!" Alex makes it to find Bobby grabbing Julie's arm as they both stand over the body of William Turner. Admiral Perry's knife is embedded in his chest, and his eyes are still wide in horror from the realization that he wasn't going to enjoy the fruits of his crime any longer._

_Damn, Alex thinks as she puts away her gun. We couldn't stop Julie from committing a crime that anyone would understand, but we can't bring Turner to justice for tricking Julie into murder. "Our whole life was a lie," Julie accuses as Alex starts cuffing her. "I was just a child," Julie screams as Bobby lets go to check Turner's pulse. Alex can sense Bobby's anger at himself as one of the uniforms takes Julie's arm. Her worries are confirmed when he turbulently lurches to his feet with an incoherent outburst clearly aimed at himself, just as two of the uniforms lead a despondent and broken Julie away while she cries, "Mom loved me."_

_Alex waves the remaining uniform out of the immediate room. No need for anyone to witness Bobby's latest round of self-torture... Carver has made it further into the room, looking stunned at the scene before him, and only just pulling his eyes up from the body to the erratic movements Bobby's making with his whole body. Out of more emotions than I can name at the moment, she thinks. Stop it, Bobby! Trying to get his attention, she blurts out her gut reaction about what happened, "Hey, if **anyone** deserved it..."_

_Bobby shakes his head, gesturing toward Julie. "She wasn't ready."_

_Carver looks like he thinks the man's taking too much upon himself. "Detective..." You won't make any difference, Counselor, Alex knows..._

"_No, no, no," Bobby dismisses as he waves his hand aimlessly, "I know that anger." Alex fights to restrain her concern, her empathy for him growing. Oh, no, she realizes, he **was** telling Julie the truth when he said that, in his own life, he knows what it feels like to have your sense of security and everything undermined by your parents... She watches helplessly as he whips around, back turned to them as his breaths come in unevenly. "I should have seen it coming," he whispers, sounding as helpless as Alex feels._

_And if that's the level I feel, she knows, then he's feeling even worse... Sighing quietly, Alex waves Carver ahead of her, putting herself between him and the distraught man who's reliving part of his own early life at that very moment..._

I shouldn't have left that room, Alex chides herself again. I should have gone back and, if nothing else, stood by him until he was ready to leave... Which, she remembers, wasn't until CSU arrived to process the scene...

Bobby feels another wave of pain flowing through Alex's body. Another memory is clawing at her heart, he realizes, bring more anguish into his heart. He tries a different tack, his voice a quiet plea. "Let me-"

Alex pushes down her frustration, her anger at his father and brother, and her sorrow for what he and his mother endured. Not letting him finish, she quietly demands, "What? You can't let yourself be comforted? Bobby, you're human. It's no failing to need or want support or comfort," she insists in a quiet version of the don't-argue tone. "I'm not letting go." Not this time...

The headache is returning, Bobby realizes, and it's becoming a migraine. Now I know how Julie Turner must've felt... He quickly becomes convinced that he has to get out of Alex's arms for his sake, and hers. He pulls his head up, turning to make his point – if he can figure it out fast enough. "You're hurting, too," he whispers in a rush, hoping to convince her to change roles. "Let me help..."

Pulling away again... Pushing attention away from yourself... Alex, feeling his movements, turns her head. "No, Bobby -"

Her words, and whatever might have been on Bobby's tongue if he'd had the time to form a response, disperse as the edges of their lips brush. Gasps escape both, and their eyes fasten on each other.

Bobby feels all inclination to pull back fading away. No, part of him whimpers in shock, no... Can't... But it's a losing battle and he quickly realizes it. His mind focuses more and more on her, and where they're touching. And the look in her eyes... Oh, God... she... cares... deeply...

Alex stares into his eyes, trying to make sense of what's happening inside her. I'm tingling all over... And the look in his eyes... Does he feel the same? Is he feeling what I've felt for over a year...?

Neither will ever be able to explain why they did what happened next. Neither could think of any way to comprehend what drew their mouths to the other's, lips meeting in their first kiss. It only lasts a second, but a pleasant buzz slowly radiates from their hearts, warming as it washes over them. It draws them together for another, and another... and another... They pull closer, adjusting on the couch for greater ease.

Alex's hands slowly roam his back, a small part of her mind noting how each muscle feels through the shirt. She feels the slight deposits of fat, but it just registers as part of him... An everyday thing, she believes. What consumes her senses are his muscles twitching under her fingers, his scent flowing into her nose, and the sounds escaping him, muffled by their joined mouths. She feels the sounds in her hands and body, the vibrations sending tremors all over.

Bobby finds his brain in a deeper daze than before, except this one is pleasant. Never... never thought it would be so... all-consuming... Why did I... want to be... anywhere else...? Letting go, he tries to wrap Alex closer than ever as the haze drags him in deeper and deeper. Not that I... **could** fight it...

Their hands move in slow caresses, feeling alternating sparks and tingles shooting through them. Each wanting the other to absorb them, each wanting to absolve the other of their pain, each wanting to never again feel what they had felt moments before. Places previously unknown except to their imaginations are revealed through clothing. Trying to roam as much as possible with the limitations of their bodies pushing against each other, her back against the couch, and him trying to not crush her with his weight.

Time soon loses all hold on them. Every second they fall further into the thickening mist, hands making more discoveries as their hearts seem to synchronize. Slight shifts change the sensations along their bodies, as they try to move even closer. Before they realize it, he's between her legs, which awkwardly – because of the tenderness from the morning – wrap around his waist. Their lips part every few seconds – anywhere from one to over ten – but are promptly drawn back together, heads changing position as a release for nervous energy.

Bobby is torn. Part of him feels, Must get closer... Must find escape... from the pain... But the rest is screaming, Stop! This shouldn't be happening! The emotional limbo won't let his hands drop any lower than her waist, but the balm of her touch has rendered him unable to pull away now. Not even the part screaming for him to stop wants to leave her arms...

Alex feels evidence of his growing anxiety, and deepens the next kiss, pressing her hands against his back, exactly over where his heart is. Be comforted, Bobby, she wills. I want to make you feel safe and loved... I want to cradle your heart against me like the world's most priceless treasure, to help you heal. So you'll be stronger, and the world can't hurt you so much... All the while, an answering need spreads inside her, desperately responding to his. Growing out of the longing for a connection, and more from feeling him... A voice screams in her mind, This could only hurt both of you! But it's easily ignored against the balm of the moment. I'm **finally** being held... **loved**...

Her hands send wild shivers racing throughout Bobby's body, drawing a moan as he pulls her even closer with one arm. Her fingers, he marvels, how can they comfort with a gentle touch...? His other hand moves to stroke her hair and caress her face, making her tremble. Oh, God... She wants this... as much as I do... Alex's sigh of contentment against his mouth only brings him in deeper, and his hand slides slowly to her front. In response, he feels hers start drifting down to his belt...

-

It takes them a while to regain awareness. When they do, their foreheads are touching, her hand is still on his cheek, and their bodies are limp. Their eyes slowly meet, and in that moment, neither one wants to be anywhere else. Neither one wants to **ever** let go.

Bobby feels surrounded by something that feels so welcoming and warm, something intangible. Something radiating from her, he believes. I want to curl next to her every night, wrap as much of myself around her as possible...

A wonderful peace had settled inside Alex's body and mind, strengthened by the same look in Bobby's face. I hope to snuggle against his chest every night, she wishes, to let the horrors and traumas of the day wash away from both of us... To make him always feel loved and wanted...

They remain in that near-comatose state for a while, nothing infringing on their closeness or peace. Their breathing slowly returns to normal as they keep gazing into each other's bared souls...

Until a siren erupts in the distance. The effect is a bucket of mental glacier water dumped on both of them.

Loud gasps erupt from them as their brains return with a crash to normal. Bobby pushes away. Alex instinctively reaches to make sure the condom comes out with him. Their movements are so uncoordinated that they both fall off the couch. He flops on his butt, and she barely braces a sideways fall, avoiding hitting the coffee table. Both pant, trying to comprehend what happened, what possessed them to... do what they just did...

Momentarily, neither can move. Their thoughts are a scattered mess, and it's all they can do to remember to breathe. Finally, Alex recovers control of her body and gingerly pushes herself off to grab her discarded clothes. Oh, God... Oh, my God... Her mind sputters as she fights with her pants and underwear. What have I done...? She pulls them on, fumbling and needing extra time to finish.

Bobby stays still, staring at the floor and out of it generally. His mind hasn't yet recovered the ability to form thoughts of any kind.

"Um, I-" Alex's voice stammers, stumbling over words at a Bobby-like rate. "I-I, um. I-I..." Once her shoes are on, she staggers over to the coat closet. Her mouth starts to recover its habits as she yanks her coat out. "I'll-I'll... c-catch a... cab," she whispers in a daze before hurrying out. The door slams shut as she drags herself toward the elevator, pulling out her cell to call the cab company she and her family use when they need a ride. She ignores the emptiness filling her entire being.

Bobby is roused by the door slamming, making him blink as he realizes Alex left. The daze melts away, yanked away by an aching emptiness. It takes him several moments to remember that he's half dressed, and still wearing the condom...


	5. Chapter 5

PART FIVE

Alex's feet have a mind of their own, propelling her to the elevator, her fastest way out. The call is done before she realizes it, and she almost drops the phone as her surroundings come into focus. The doors have opened, and the phone is barely still in her hand. Her chest is heaving so much, a distant part of her mind thinks it's a miracle the dispatcher understood her.

Now, with that done, the events of moments before come into full clarity. Oh, my God, her mind whispers as she stumbles into the elevator. Oh, my God, what have I done? **How** could I have let that happen?

Her body clears the doors, but not in time to keep the doors from opening again. Alex doesn't notice; her brain is scrounging to figure out how hugging Bobby – trying to help him cleanse himself of the pain and grief – could possibly lead to kissing and then...

The doors close as she collapses against the back, sliding to the floor. I-I... I didn't see it coming, she silently stammers as her body trembles uncontrollably. I never even imagined this...

Ahem, interrupts the prim voice that originated from the various nuns who were her Sunday school teachers. Excuse me, Alexandra, what are those little dreams you've had? A few were fairly close to just now...

No... She shakes her head vigorously, stabbing the main floor button from memory of its location – in her drowned-yet-dry state, she's lucky to have made it to the elevator without paying attention – after pulling herself up to the front. No, she insists, trying to convince herself. No, I **never** thought about making any of them come true. I'd **never** take advantage of him...

You didn't let him pull away, the stern voice continues. You kept kissing him. You pulled him back against you. **After** he was clearly bleeding raw emotion, **after** he released those waves of **years** of quarantined feelings... you seduced him into dropping his pants. **After** he said that he views sex as something to be saved for marriage. You, Alexandra Dearest, pushed him into using sex as an escape. Something his father certainly did... and you know how he doesn't want to be anything like **that** man...

Alex drops her head, feeling like it's suddenly made of solid lead. God, I shouldn't have – He sees me as a partner, a friend... Maybe like a sister. I... I seduced him... hurt him...

Wait, screams another part of her, wait! Alex, he'd never do anything he's absolutely against unless his life – or another's life – depended on it. You know that! Besides, would a man who views you as a sister lean in to kiss you fully on the mouth? No. **Nor** would he **keep** kissing you, let alone pull **your** pants down and caress you through your shirt...

Her body burns as it remembers the feel of his mouth, the sensations his hands triggered, and... Her eyes water, reliving the feeling of being one with Bobby... H-He, stumbles the part of her that wants to believe that dissenting voice, seemed to want to be that way forever... Tears fester in the corners of her eyes as she notices, it feels like part of me has been ripped out...

Go back upstairs, Alex, pleads that part of her that protested the idea that she seduced him. Go back and ask if he'll stay with you. You **knew** a week ago that he shouldn't be alone tonight. How can you leave him, abandon him to his demons and thoughts?

Alex shakes, trying to sort through her jumbled mind. The Bobby Goren she thought she knew would never have done any of that that... with her. Then again, the Bobby she knows never cried in her arms before, never let her anywhere near his inner-most fears before tonight... She was barely a witness to the times when his wounds were visible. What could he be feeling now that I've helped him break his own vows...? How can I face him, now that he must know what I feel for him? He needs me to accept and deal with him as a partner... and as a friend. Will he want me to leave...? Is... **he** going to want a transfer...?

Oh, God... Her lungs feel like they're shriveling away. Just when I'd never think about wanting a new partner, I give him reason to want one... The weight in Alex's torso feels like she's going to collapse any moment, as if her legs can't support her own mass. I can't face him now... Not when I've hurt him more than... more than Nicole did... With that, her legs give out and she flops on the floor, wincing at the pain.

But that fades quickly the instant the elevator stops and the doors open. The feeling is replaced by tears she fights to keep in check. Can't cry here... Must wait till I'm home...

For the last four and a half months, all of Alex's efforts toward Bobby have been to help him heal from the wounds that Nicole created, and the old ones that she ripped open again. All to help him become stronger, so he wouldn't be that hurt ever again, and be able to fend off those attacks. She vowed to never do anything to hurt him, to always support him without asking for anything in return.

Alex shakes her head slowly, trying to shake the emotional and physical exhaustion. She drags herself up to standing, pressing the open button. The doors part, re-enforcing the sensation of being cleaved into two. But she forces herself forward, unwilling to imagine what might have happened had she stayed put.

--

What the... How did this...?

He remembers with a mental crash. Oh, my God... Bobby slouches against the couch, ignoring the pain in his sits bones. But he **cannot** ignore how they came to be sore in the first place. Not that he stands a chance of forgetting...

My... my insides... They're... rapidly becoming... an expanding canyon... Bobby shifts, brushing the bruised area against the floor slightly, wincing from the movement. The gaping hole from the tops of his lungs to the bottoms of his intestines is still growing, feeling like it will one day consume him from the inside. I deserve it, he scolds himself for the numberless time but for a new reason. I screwed up. I **knew** I had to pull away for both our sakes. I-I... I should have pushed her away... Before... I lost... control...

Wait a minute, screams another voice through the fog. Bobby, she didn't push you away. She **could** have told you to stop, and you would have, but she didn't. She actually pulled you **closer** to her, didn't she...?

The insistent tone, plus that little – no, **huge** – truth pry at his consciousness. His brain, for all its knowledge about human nature and emotions, **cannot** imagine one flimsy explanation for Alex Eames' actions. W-Why, his mind stammers, why would someone... as extraordinary... as A-Alex... allow someone like... **me** to... touch her...? **Why** would she do that? Bobby racks his mind harder. I mean, I know she said that I'm... worth someone taking a chance on, but... she **couldn't** have meant herself. He keeps thinking while his body tries to move.

His faults are an easy subject to fall back on. I-I'm old in mind, I have... a bunch of crappy habits, I-I'm... shy, my past... isn't confidence-instilling, and... I'm... difficult to be around. Whereas A-Alex... She's had... well, everything I never did... She could have **anyone** she wants. I mean, that's not surprising, his brain continues. Let's look at her traits.

A tiny part of his mind that's coming to sends cautionary signals. This might not be a good idea... But Bobby will think about many things to avoid something if he feels the need... and examining certain things in his life have never been pleasant tasks, so he's well-versed in avoidance mechanisms.

Smart. Bobby noticed early on that she has a knack for listening. S-She can pick out a quarry on a surveillance run... from a distance... Yet Bobby's the one who likes to watch. Alex knows her limits... He's watched her chameleon into any role – always one she believes she has a tiny part of inside her – with ease. She knows how to use her size to fool people, and she knows how to bend the rules. How many times, he wonders, have all – or even a few – of those qualities helped them crack a case...?

Funny. God, he sighs, does she have a sense of humor. Perps don't know what to make of it, he smiles in remembrance. Most of the squad doesn't, either... Maybe the Captain, but only because he worked with her father for several years, and then was her boss for four years. It never fails to make him smile or laugh, though...

Caring. How gentle she can be with witnesses, coaxing answers out of them without giving the vibe of a shrink... She could've been one, though, he thinks. I'd trust someone like her, even if she has to joke her way into getting me to open up. And she's been great about helping me... I don't know where I'd be without her friendship.

Passionate... Bobby unconsciously dips his head, a knee-jerk reaction to the flush creeping up his neck and into his cheeks. Oh, God, is she ever... His free hand goes to his neck, trying to rub away tension. Um, he silently stammers, I-I meant that she gives a lot of herself when she believes in something. That she always aims to do her best, and she fights to keep her promises...

It doesn't help pull the one part of his brain out of the gutter... Okay, he amends, maybe... Well, what else? Loyal, he suddenly thinks, very loyal... Devoted to her family and her... her friends...

The distraction process is interrupted then by an itch from below the waist, reminding him of what he's left on. He finally pulls off the reminder of what happened, hoping to resume that thought pattern. Many drops spill to the carpet, bringing a harsh blush to his face. Oh, God... The weight of it all sinks down on him, and he sags into himself. What did I do...? Did I scare her away...? I must have... I didn't – couldn't – stop myself, and she's so much smaller...

Whoa, screams the part of his brain that protested earlier, whoa! Didn't you hear me?! She's **never** been afraid of you, even when you gave her **good** reason to be. If she didn't push you away, if she let things... proceed, then she couldn't have **not** wanted it... You **know** she'd never sleep with someone she didn't love...

Bobby sinks more heavily against the couch, his face popping wide. Oh, my God... Silence fills his shellacked brain, pushing out all of faint sounds of neighbors and the outside traffic noise. He needs his other hand to steady himself. Oh, my God... Alex wanted... to be... with me? His heart shivers at the idea, which gives him an enormous wave of vertigo. Alex... wants me? Loves me? Messed-up me? Is that why she... believes I'm worth it?

The natural response from the self-effacing side is to say that the other person is crazy, and that he's gone **beyond** that point, but his darkest side cannot call Alex Eames' sanity into question; it's petrified of her. The unexpected silence from that part of him leaves Bobby's mind frozen from the shock of his new discovery.

But... but how could I do... what I just did?

As soon as the thought completes itself, the answer dawns on him with ten times the speed of Derek Jeter's fastest home run. I gave in because I feel the same for her... I love her... I love Alex Eames...

Now all his fears make perfect sense. That the fear of her leaving only strengthened as their time as partners expanded is all-too clear. It always seemed like everyone he ever loved left him sooner or later. How could I have missed this? How could I have **not** realized I fell for her? Even if it didn't feel like a fall...?

Suddenly, the memory of the door slamming shut crashes on top of him. Oh, no... His head collapses onto his free hand, sobs escaping him again as he feels his body breaking from the inside out. I-I've driven her away... The one person I trust. The one person who stood by me even when I didn't deserve it. The...

The One...

Bobby lifts his head up, eyes ballooning. Now the world feels like it's squeezing him to death. Alex is The One? Alex...?

In a way, he slowly thinks, it makes sense... Someone that well in-tune with me where I'm most taxed, someone who's made herself indispensable to me. Someone I can't imagine not seeing every day of my life... His heart grows heavier, sinking into his stomach. Someone I've lost forever... Who's fled...

No! No, screams that same part that voiced the realization that he loves her and that she must love him, no! Robert Obdiah Goren, you **cannot** let her leave!

You can't make her stay, the self-effacing part retorts sharply. Not if she doesn't want to!

Then give her a reason to stay, that same pleading voice hollers at him, make her **certain** that you want her to remain! Because if you just let her go tonight, you could lose her forever. But if you go after her, maybe she'll stay! You've **got** to take the risk!

Then his eyes notice her scarf and cap are still on one of his bookshelves. She'll freeze without them...

That gets Bobby on his feet in an instant. Maybe... Maybe she'll stay... if I can catch up with her... He grabs his pants and tosses the trash to a passing can. His slacks and the boxers that came off with them – he would ditch the latter except the former itches too much without them – are back on him with seconds. Ignoring the belt and his socks, he manages to get his shoes on and grab his keys. Then he barrels out the door without locking his apartment, barely remembering to pull it shut behind him and completely forgetting her discarder items.

He doesn't care – couldn't care – what the neighbors think. He's incapable of thinking about the ruckus he's making. Only the thought of catching up with the woman who's made his life better, the woman who could make his life complete.


	6. Chapter 6

PART SIX

Elevator's too slow, Bobby knows. Must use stairs. His speedy descent approximates the noise of the biggest riot in Riker's. Somebody listening in might think a person is being chased. Please, God, he silently begs in the way down, please let her stay... I'll do **anything** to persuade her...

Downstairs, Alex pushes the outer door open and forces herself outside. She rapidly pulls her coat on, tightening it to shield herself from the cold as well as from her own thoughts. Oh, damn, she silently scolds herself, I left my scarf and cap upstairs... Sighing, she shakes her head, aiming it at herself. I can't go back for them... Her eyes scan for the cab, which fortunately pulls up at that very moment. A tiny part of her isn't sure that it's a good idea, but she starts walking the couple dozen feet between her and the cab. Damn those delivery vans, she silently vents as she folds her hands between her body and her elbows, taking up the closest parking spaces...

Bobby plows out of the stairwell in record time, ignoring his aching knee as he whips his head around to look for Alex. There's no sign of her. No, please, he prays. Please, God, let her still be here... His feet take off, bringing all of him to the door.

The cabbie's window rolls down as Alex approaches, and the elderly-looking black driver gives her a smile. Just a friendly smile, but it means a lot to Alex's frazzled mind. I'll get a few minutes of peace... She barely manages to return the expression, in a pale form, as she opens the door.

The front doors of the building burst open, the doors creaking in protest of the force used, and Bobby stumbles out from the transfer of the momentum. His eyes dart around, but it doesn't take long to see the cab and the woman opening the rear door. Yes! She's still here, Bobby's mind screams in relief, she's still here! He sprints to stop her from taking off, hollering, "Alex!"

Her head nearly spins off her neck. Alex freezes when she sees the terror in his eyes, the wild desperation. The gymnast replaces her heart once again, making her feel faint. He followed me, she thinks in shock, he followed...

"Your boyfriend, miss?" The driver can get away with calling her that given their apparent respective ages; depending on the family, he could be old enough to be her grandpa. Alex can't look back at him. Her eyes are fixed on the man she thinks she hurt.

Bobby almost crashes to a stop, just a foot in front of her. The door stands between them, and he doesn't like it. He takes in her trembling eyes, their stunned and guarded look, and her tightly wound posture. Shame exudes from her like an oil leak. She's blaming herself, he realizes, blinking in surprise. No, Alex... The look in her eyes draws him to her side, and sends his hands to hers, hoping to warm them. His mouth opens slightly, trying to build himself the strength to plead with her. Stay, he mouths, please stay...

Staring into his face, Alex spies a barrage of emotions. Leading them is one that she's never seen him show before. Certainly not aimed at her... No, she quickly remembers, I saw it... when we... She feels faint again as the identity of that one emotion dawns on her. Oh, my God...

"Miss?" The cab driver's patience is starting to wear thin. "Are you coming?"

Bobby ignores the driver. He keeps mouthing the same words. His mind says them with his silent mouth. Stay, please stay...

If he's pleading with me like his life depends on it, Alex realizes, then there's no way that I can leave his side... Not now... Alex tugs a hand free – which Bobby reluctantly lets go of, but clasps her other hand in both of his – and fumbles in her pocket for the base money cabs charge. She finds it, plus extra for a tip, and closes the door. "I-I guess not, after all..." She offers the money. "Here, for your trouble..."

The man looks at her, evaluating Bobby for threat potential, and decides he's not giving off any dangerous vibes. Sighing, he takes the money. "Take it upstairs, kiddies," he chides.

Bobby releases the breath he didn't realize he was holding. Thank you, God... Still, his body doesn't relax when the cab drives away. There's too much at stake to rest easy, too much remaining unsaid. Unable to speak, Bobby does the only thing he can think of. He pulls Alex against him and takes both of her hands in his free hand, walking them both back to his building. She doesn't protest, although that doesn't reassure him much.

Alex swallows, shaking, and not from the cold. Looking down since she can't bring herself to meet his eyes yet, her eyes take in the lack of socks. Then her eyes notice everything else he's missing. Bobby, her mind squeaks, it's freezing. Didn't you notice...? His silence as he opens the doors – somehow without letting go of her – is worrying, but then again, nothing could've prepared Alex for this night. She struggles for something to talk about; this kind of silence is the type that always spells trouble. But her mind is racing on the reality that he followed her like a madman, and that he's pulling her back inside. And then there's what she saw in his eyes... He... loves me... That gymnast changes to a rapid balancing beam routine, and Alex lips tremble as she considers the possibilities.

Bobby remains silent the whole way. He holds tightly to her, fearing she'll disappear if he lets go. Please, he silently pleads with her, please want to stay... He leads them into the elevator, and manages to push the button for his floor. I need more contact with her, Bobby feels. His arm tightens around her waist, pulling her flush against him, and the other slides into her hair. I need you, Alex... He puts his against her head, focusing on absorbing every bit of her scent into his memory. In case this is the last moment I have with her... Remembering that he has to risk rejection, he presses his lips to her head. Love you, he thinks, hoping she feels it in his actions. I love you, Alex... Stay, please...

Sensing the fear – and more, much more – behind all his touches, Alex feels the tears she's been holding back since running from his apartment spilling down her face. Deepening the connection, she worries, might make me break down... But her need to calm him overwhelms her concerns. So she hesitantly puts her arms around him, hands resting somewhere up his back. He feels chilly, she notices, but I'll bet it has nothing to do with the weather. The hand in her hair moves to stroke her head softly. He senses my tears...

They walk wordlessly up to his apartment, slowly as he won't let go of her, which limits their movement options. They don't pass any of his neighbors, which they'll later both be grateful for. When they reach his door, his lack of attention becomes clear. Alex raises her eyebrows, but says nothing.

He lets her in first, following slowly and locking the door behind him. Not that a lock will stop her, he knows, but at least no one else will barge in. Her eyes are getting red, but she seems calmer after being held. He swallows, eyes darting for any ideas of what to do now. Must convince her... tell her...

Alex can't move since his arm is still around her waist, but her eyes stay away from the couch, and they look anywhere but there or at Bobby. She waits for him to do something, trying to find something to say. If I'm silent too long, she thinks, he'll worry...

Bobby spies the one place out in the open that he's never let her rest on. Letting anyone – even me – sit in it has seemed wrong, but now... Yes, he admits slowly, I trust her. Showing it might keep her around, and if there's any way to show it... this is it... Taking a long breath, he guides her over.

Not fighting his guiding, Alex lets him move her around, and finds herself being placed on a seat. It's not the couch; she can see it out of the corner of her eye. It's not any of the table chairs; too cushioned and the chair's rocking back and forth. Her eyes bulge and her breath catches in her throat. It's his mother's chair, she realizes without looking at her surroundings, the sacred chair. The one he's touchy about me going near... Alex's head whips up to face him, her lips and voice trembling. "Bobby?"

Bobby hears the why in her voice, and knows he has to admit the truth. His whole body shakes and his insides want to turn to mush rather than face the onslaught of adrenaline already taking over. But he sees the odds of her leaving him as too high, all-too-high...

Still, he reminds himself as he slowly kneels in front of her, the expression in her deep eyes doesn't look like that of someone going to leave... It looks more like someone whose wildest dream might be coming true... He's seen that look on more than one victim and more than a few of their relatives, so he knows it well. He takes her hands as a lifeline, to give himself something to focus on and to find the nerve to say what needs to be said. The warm tingles flowing from the contact both scares him and comforts him. God, please let me find the right words...

Alex's eyes drift down to his hands. Their hold is gentle and their warmth is soothing, but the fear and desperation is still there. His thumbs softly stroke her skin, a manifestation of his inability to stay still. What...? What's happened, Bobby? Why am I here...?

"This was my mom's. She bought it while pregnant with David, and she nursed each of us in it. She had me keep it, for..." He stops, nearly choking on the weight of the past lodging in his throat. Maybe that's not the best way to start, part of him warns. Not when you think it'll never happen... because of what you might carry... Taking another breath, he pushes himself along. "She wanted me to keep it for my own family."

Eyes bulging, Alex lifts her head to stare at his face. He's staring at their joined hands. Like he can't meet my eyes yet... That gymnast isn't letting up, except the fear is starting to fade this time.

Bobby, deciding Alex's silence isn't discouraging, forces himself to go on. "I've always been afraid that no one would want me. I grew up sensing... **knowing** I wasn't wanted. Mom was the Lone Ranger in that respect. Well, the feelings got stronger as the years passed. I couldn't let anyone in, even when I wanted to." Irene and Lola broke it off for that reason, he remembers. "I always felt like an outsider, and I believe that you shouldn't be that way if you're going to marry."

Oh, God... Alex feels her chest developing a gaping hole in her heart center. Her eyes tear again, and the moisture starts to overflow.

Hands shaking in hers, Bobby's own eyes threaten tears. And he finds that it's getting harder to stop the words from coming out. "I figured that if I ever did meet someone I believed was The One, I certainly wouldn't meet her on the job. The women there would be too aware of my quirks to let me near them." Yet you've stayed... become my friend... "And I had to worry about the problem with finding a partner who wanted to stick with me, since I want to be out catching perps, and that requires working with others. People kept saying that no one would stay. I was accepting that for a fact when I transferred to Major Case."

Alex feels her face getting wet as all the emotions she's held in leak out. And I was nearly one of them... Her face flushes with shame, but she's grateful he doesn't look up. How can I **ever** tell him...?

"Then Deakins introduced us." A tiny smile cracks his face. "I never imagined that someone half my size would be stronger than I am. That anyone's skills would compliment mine so well." And I couldn't believe that it could last... "That my partner could become my best friend in the world. That you'd support me and not let me wallow in my own misery."

She grips his hands, trying to give him the strength to continue. She feels encouraged by what he's said so far.

Feeling his hands squeezed, Bobby feels emboldened and the words come more easily. "I've never known how to thank you for everything. The longer our team lasted, the more worried I became. I mean, it seemed too good to last." Especially for a few weeks almost three years ago... He shakes his head to push the memory aside. "But then the past few months..." He sighs, slightly shaking his head in marvel. "You didn't have to do **any** of what you did, but I'm so grateful that you were there so much."

Alex wants to touch his cheek, but suspects that letting go of his hand might be counter-productive. It might seem like I'm withdrawing... And I nearly pulled away from you...

"What I didn't see coming at all was how... well, jealous I became of you. I hated it more and more when I saw witnesses and suspects flirting with you." I need to explain that... "I mean, I used to just be annoyed. You know, I felt they were disrespecting you, and wasting our time. But then..." Bobby swallows, then sighs. "A few times I'd look back on what I did or said to them and wonder why I was so harsh. And then there was some part of my mind that enjoys creating... what I-I considered... forbidden thoughts about you."

Her eyebrows pop up, and Alex feels her wet face flush hard. I guess it's good to know I'm not the only one having dirty thoughts...

Bobby's face colors sharply, and he clears his throat. "Not all of it was... like that, but everything seemed like it'd never happen. Because I felt that you deserved better than me. That I had no right to even think about it..." His voice trails off into silence.

That sets her tears flowing freely. Needing to reassure him, Alex pulls their joined hands to her lips and kisses his fingers softly. I hope this conveys the emotions I need him to **know** I feel for him.

At the feel of her lips, Bobby slowly lifts his face, and finds her teary eyes staring at him. Open to his perusal. His heart stops beating for a moment. Oh, my God... She... She really... cares more deeply than I dared hope...

Please, Bobby, Alex's whispers with her eyes. Please go on... She presses a long kiss against his left pointer, the one that he's used to frighten and cajole confessions out of people with.

Bobby sees a plea, and realizes that she has to be asking when he started to feel this way. "I... um, I found myself thinking about you at inopportune times, and it was unpredictable." He clears his throat, putting his mind on that track. This could get embarrassing, he knows. "I don't remember when it started, but... I recall feeling more... uneasy about how other men acting around you almost two years ago, right around when that... slime Talbot came on to you."

Really...? Alex's narrows her eyes slightly, one eyebrow raising a hair.

Bobby flinches, looking away. "Yeah, it was my idea. **Believe** me, I remember. I kicked myself for suggesting it, starting when you just stared at me when I made it."

She smiles, remembering how everyone's eyes were on her at that moment. I didn't like the idea of playing bait for that bastard, she mentally grimaces, but I knew it was necessary. Thank goodness it was **just** Deakins and Carver in the room when Bobby said it... The rest of the office did hear about what happened, but only after Talbot smashed Interrogation One's two-way mirror in a rage.

Bobby clears his throat. "I started to want your company more and more, especially after... October last year, and didn't feel easy when you weren't there." He pauses, letting go of her hands; his own need to gesture. "I've been in love, and I could always tell that I'd fallen. But not here. I-I... I was in over my head by the time I realized what happened. A-And it... didn't feel like a fall."

His words help Alex break through a mental block of her own. His experience mirrors hers so much... that she realizes the question of when did she fall for him is moot. "Because neither of us fell..."

Bobby looks up, bewildered. "What?!" His voice barely makes the word. "How is that possible, Alex?"

Alex slowly meets his eyes. "We didn't fall in love with each other. We grew into loving each other. Just as we... grew into being partners and friends." Her whisper reflects the quiet shock over the discovery. If you only knew how close I came to never letting any of it happen... She drops her eyes down to her lap, trying to push the memory away again... before he can sense it.

The idea blows Bobby's mind away, blinding him to the shadow passing through her eyes. Never would've occurred to me... He lets a long moment pass before clearing his throat, mentally grouping. He finally takes her hands again as he whispers, "When did you know...?"

Alex remains still and silent, weighing her options. The truth is best, she decides. "While the Cap was reaming you out over the Rankin standoff."

That startles him. "Why?" I knew you were upset, but I thought it was mostly shock... and fear for the children...

It's been over a year, Alex thinks, and I still shudder at the memory of that afternoon... Swallowing, she forces her voice to stay even. "When I heard what you'd done, I was **terrified** that I'd lose you. When I reached you, I... was so relieved that you were safe, and my heart bled for yours – and for that family – when we saw that Rankin was planning to walk away." She stares at their hands like they'll reveal the answers for her. "I-I spent the whole drive back and nearly all of your time in Deakins' office trying to make sense of it. Then I realized that the last time I'd gotten that scared was hearing about... the bust that... killed Toby."

Her husband, Bobby recalls from some note about Alex's past. Toby Daniel Lockhart. He'd heard of the man a while back, but he never heard how he'd died. Now I know something... "And that told you?"

Alex manages a tiny smile, tinged with sadness and a hint of humor. "Yes. I realized that if I was reacting in the same way, then I had to be in love with you." She sighs. "It's not funny how often it takes nearly losing someone to realize what they mean to you. Doesn't help that I've had multiple reminders of it since then..."

He blinks a bunch of times. "R-Reminders...?" What did I do to scare her...?

Alex looks up shakily. "Your grappling match with Jorge Galvez? Remember? The suicide bomber?" Her voice grows frosty, choking at the memory of seeing Bobby fighting to the death to get the trigger away from Jorge's grip. "I thought I was gonna see you blown up," she whispers, her voice breaking at the thought. I'd already lost one man I love to the job, her mind whimpers, and I thought my worst nightmare was about to come true again... Except I would've seen it happen...

Bobby stares, dumbfounded at the anguish in her eyes. I terrified her... at least twice... He lowers his head, ashamed that he put her through all that pain. I never wanted to hurt her... I really am blind when it comes to my own life and the people in it... "I'm sorry," he whispers, brokenly. "I really am."

She tightens their hands. "I-I don't like seeing anyone die on the job, but..." Alex has to take a few breaths. I need a steadier voice to say this... She makes sure she has his full attention before whispering with force, "Now do you understand why I don't want to break in another partner?"

His shoulders sag as many little signs from those two days start shining like clean crystal. "Yeah. I wouldn't want to, either." A tiny small crosses his lips momentarily. "You noticed how... well I do working with others..."

Alex swallows, then clears her throat. "I, uh... I hid my feelings for that reason." His eyes shoot up to hers, bewildered. I'd better explain, she senses. "I-I... wasn't sure how you'd react. You've always treated me with complete respect. As well as I know you, I-" Her eyes drop. "I had no clue whether our partnership would be hurt if you knew..."

That gets a rise of out him. "Alex..." The desperate confusion in his voice draws her gaze back up, but the distance suddenly feels like miles despite their clasped hands. Keep it simple, he tells himself, keep it simple. Swallowing his nerves, Bobby slowly gets off his haunches, putting himself more at eye level with her. "What we've built together is too important. It's why I couldn't let you just run..." His hands want to move, but he knows it'll just be a mixture of aimlessness and purpose. And keeping contact, he feels, might be vital to keeping her around...

Alex sighs. "I thought that someone with your profiling skills would've picked up on it quickly." She stares at him. "But it seems that you don't notice connections to your own life."

He blushes again. "If I'd suspected..." What would I have done? It's a question he quickly realizes that he won't have a good answer for anytime soon. If ever, he reminds himself. "I wouldn't have requested a transfer. Never would've occurred to me," he swears, maintaining eye contact as his voice drops to a whisper. "I can't walk away from something that works..."

She feels her skin's color changing into that of a flamingo. Can't look away, Alex reminds herself. Can't... for his sake... "I know now... I should have known it before... I guess..." She stops herself for a few seconds, suddenly needing more nerve to say it. "I guess I, too, fear being left behind... because I've been there..."

Profound sadness overtakes Bobby. She loved him deeply, he can tell. Still does... That last part brings his own faults forward. Glaring reminders, he feels in his soul, of how... how I can never hope to be what he was to her... Yet... His gaze falls to the floor, weighted by his thoughts. Which voice themselves in a whisper before he can stop them. "Why me, Alex? With my background, habits, and... issues?"

The uncertainty in his voice makes her pull their hands to her heart before he can continue. I hope its beating will tell him more than I'm capable of with words... "All of that has made you into an **extraordinary** man. Loyal to those you care about, responsible, and able to make someone feel very special just being around you." Her face grows a sweet smile as she speaks.

Tears drop from his eyes, blurring his vision and making her look more like an angel to him. I still can't comprehend, a large part of him believes, that she – of all people – would believe that, but... who am I to argue with her? Especially now... "Thank you," he chokes out. It's woefully inadequate, but it's all he can think of to accompany the grateful smile creeping onto his face.

Alex beams back, trying to stem the flow of tears. There's still a huge lack of self-confidence, she senses sadly. Pain from being aware of it has been triggering her own emotional scars. Scars already raw from my own day. She takes a deep breath, and then clears her throat. Dwelling on the past isn't going to help either of us... "So, what do **you** want, Bobby?" Given everything, she's impressed by how even her tone is, and pleased that it's open, encouraging.

There are as many answers to that as there are molecules in either of our bodies, Bobby thinks. He plays over a few general options, nothing grabbing him. But one thing draws him, something that's always seemed out of his reach... But the look in her eyes, he remembers, a look that's been there since... His brain won't finish the sentence, so he goes on another track, It suggests that maybe I was wrong... It gives him enough of a push to risk **everything** and put his heart in his voice. "I want to be with you more often. I..." I can't say that I think she's The One, he silently panics. It's too soon, isn't it...?

His trailing off isn't surprising, but with her heart doing cartwheels on a balance beam, Alex wants to know what he wants. "Yes? You want what? Tell me everything you're willing to share with me."

Bobby blinks at her words. She-she's accepting – unconditionally – that there's a lot I'm not ready to tell her, he silently marvels, and that she'll take whatever I am willing to give? Now he really feels unworthy of her. She deserves so much better than me, a guy so unsure of himself...

Come on, tell me... "Bobby, please?" Alex accompanies her plea by leaning forward so their eyes are level.

He finds he needs several breaths, and to clear his throat, before he can find words that convey any of his wishes... "I want to know you better, Alex." Oh, good, Bobby, his inner snark laughs. That explains a lot...

He wants to take our bond to another area...? I need to **hear** you be a little more specific, Bobby... Alex pretends to think over his words for a few seconds, and finally smirks. "Well, that isn't hard to arrange." She holds back a warmer smile, although it's in her tone. I want to make **damn** sure he wants... what I thinks he does... She coaxes him with, "Or did you mean something else?"

Bobby closes his eyes, trying to not kick himself for not saying it outright. Figures that she would insist on it... He opens them on an exhale, forcing out his real wish at the same time. "I-I mean I-I want to... court you."

Alex's eyebrows pop up, and she blinks repeatedly. Court... She racks her brain trying to remember what the word means exactly. After all, she knows, Bobby chooses his words more carefully than he chooses his clothes... Memories of the lit classes from high school and college float at the edge of her consciousness. Doesn't it imply a certain... desired outcome...?

Her silence does his anxieties no favors. Uh, no... did I say too much...?

Short, surprised, and embarrassed laughs escape her throat when she notices his growing alarm. Oops, Alex chides herself, should have remembered that... "I-I've never... had **that** said to me," she explains with a flustered stammer.

Bobby finds his thoughts torn between thinking that's a pity – since, he thinks, she deserves it – and being relieved that she's with him. He clears his throat, then tries to request an answer. But his throat won't open. My chords... They feel too tight to make a sound... No, please open so I can ask-

Alex's answer is easy. Especially, she feels when fear has clearly rendered him incapable of asking again. "Yes, Bobby," she beams through her tears. "A **definite** yes."

It takes a few seconds for it to sink in, but Bobby's mind slowly absorbs it. Yes... She said yes... His answering smile makes his eyes shine, and the feelings her words ignite embolden him enough to disengage his hands from hers to pull her into his lap.

She slides off the chair in joyous tears, wanting to show with her face and touch that she wants this new journey as much as he does. Thank you, Bobby, thank you... This time, the touch provides a warm flow, slowly spreading all over but settling in their hearts. I can feel it in his body, Alex notices in amazement.

Unfortunately, his knee quickly interrupts the moment, going off on him. Damn, Bobby silently winces, sucking in a breath. Alex's weight isn't doing any favors to it, he realizes, even as light as she feels...

Alex can feel, based on his body spasm, that his knee's the culprit. She moves off his lap to ease the pressure, but keeps her arms around his neck and her face close to his. The rocking chair was cozy, she considers, but I doubt it'd hold both of us even if I'm on his lap... "Let's sit somewhere comfortable," she suggests.

Bobby tenses. There are only two really comfortable places to sit in this place... But no way am I taking her in the bedroom... The other... His face burns from the memories. Well, we got ourselves into trouble there...

It's not hard to guess what he's thought of. Her face flushes and she momentarily freezes, too. Neither can speak. Finally, Alex breaks the long silence – and pushes back the vivid memories – by clearing her throat. "We both know... what we're feeling. Nothing will happen. We **can** sit there," she declares. Wish I felt as confident in that as I sound...

Alex, his mind screams, are you serious?! It's... it's the scene of the... crime... A few seconds of enduring his knee's complaints makes him reconsider. It's comfortable, and there's enough space for them to be... away from... there... Bobby reaches the reluctant conclusion that it's for the best. Even if it tries my restraint... "Okay," he breathes as he starts the well-practiced method of moving despite his knee.

She pulls back so that they're only connected by their clasped hands, but she has to let go of one hand so he can steady himself. But as they move to the couch, their bodies slowly take on the tension of prisoners on a march, and they both struggle to not think. Sitting woodenly, side-by-side, on the other side of the couch, they stay like that for a few seconds.

But finally the craziness of the moment glares Alex dead-on. She groans in frustration and collapses against Bobby's side.

Bobby's eyes widen. What the hell...?

She grasps his other hand and squeezes both, feeling the growing alarm. "It's not you, Bobby," she blurts, "it's not you. It's just..." Oh, God... She scrunches her face trying to find words that are good enough. Trying for right is too much to ask of herself tonight. How **do** I explain this...? "We... We can't live like this... being scared of... there..." She tilts her head towards that side briefly, but keeps her eyes on the coffee table. "Like I said, we both **know** it won't happen again." She pauses, blushing. "At least, not anytime soon..." It might not be such a bad thing in a while, part of her thinks, with **all** clothes off next time... Alex tries to not shake her head at herself. You're jumping the gun, Alexandra... You don't know what he wants.

He stays silent while she starts and stops in her explanation, needing to know her thoughts. When she stops, he freezes. Not anytime soon... The trailing off in her voice makes him uneasy. What does she want, expect out of me?

She feels him stiffen beside her. Did I say something wrong? Concerned, she turns to him. "What's the matter?"

Bobby wonders if he can even say this. However, to give what they've agreed to build a chance, he realizes within seconds that he **must** be more forthcoming with his reasons and thoughts. Still, is this the best thing to admit to someone you're about to court? "Um... Alex, I-I'd n-never... Until t-tonight, I mean..." I'm not ashamed of my choices, he talks to himself, but they're not ones you... broadcast...

Alex blinks, not sure she heard him correctly. Leaning forward, she wills him to look at her. I need to see what you mean... But the look he gives her when he finally meets her eyes convinces her. "You... were a virgin," she whispers, stunned. She doesn't need him to confirm it, but his whole expression would convince the hardest skeptic. The idea never occurred to me... I thought he just was very selective... Although, given his shyness, she can't say she's surprised. Her checks color profusely, but her curiosity has been triggered. "Bobby, if it's okay to ask, why did you... make that choice?"

Bobby stares into their clasped hands. Part of him would rather not admit this, but... If I want any chance of making this work, he reluctantly admits to himself, I have to tell her more. It takes a lot of effort to not stammer, but the words comes out awkwardly. "I... I swore when I was a teenager that I'd stay celibate until – or if – I get married." He senses rather than sees her shock, and clears his throat to continue, slowly raising his gaze back to hers. She deserves that much... "I **never** wanted the woman I decided was The One to feel compared to someone else," he explains on a firmer note. And please don't ask why I felt that way, he silently begs her with his eyes, not now...

Alex is floored. The idea floats in her mind, not quite settling down. Her thoughts tumble around, different ones fighting for dominance. He chose to wait... because of his experiences growing up... No wonder he feels bad about... what we did...

The inability of either one to actually name their actions comes from not knowing what to call it. "Sex" seems too emotionless and base for the overwhelming connection and sensations. And that throws out all the more colorful euphemisms as well... "Making love" suggests a more conscious decision than either feels was the case.

The absorbing silence makes Bobby uneasier with every second. What does she think, he worries. Did I say too much? "I-I hope that-that wasn't too much information, Alex."

"No, no." The words come out fast, forcing Alex to take a deep breath to let her mind get ahead of her mouth again. It's a good thing, Bobby, she thinks, a very good thing. She leans in and wraps her arms around his neck to grab his attention. "No, I'm glad to know," she beams. "It confirms what I already knew: that you'll be a complete gentleman towards me."

Her words somehow make the last noticeable bubble of tension in Bobby's body pop, and he sighs against the back of the couch. Thank you, God, his mind exhales in relief as he works his arms around her, pulling her as close as possible. Even as she snuggles deeper into the embrace, his hand drifts to her hair, reaffirming that the exquisite moment is real.

They sit like that for several long minutes, each contemplating the gentle feelings flowing through them. Some outside noise – probably a neighbor upstairs dropping something – stirs them, but this time they don't jump. They're too comfortable where they are.

Seconds later, a thought crosses Alex's mind. Ooh, she thinks wickedly, this could be fun...

Bobby feels a grin spreading over her face, one that suggests she's up to something. Should I be concerned, he wonders as a tinge of nervousness comes back, given all... this? "Alex?" It comes out hesitatingly, letting his feelings show.

Alex raises her eyes to his, the smile still on her face. I guess, she decides, that now is as good a time as any to introduce him to the new level of teasing that I've given to everyone I've ever dated... It should shock him out of this round of nerves... "Two conditions." Her voice, however, is serious. Even as her eyes twinkle.

His brows pop up as he scans her face for any explanation of her behavior, but he can't find any. Predicting her humor is the impossible dream, he knows. He nods for her to continue. Being in suspense doesn't appeal to me...

Her grin grows larger. "The Santa mug stays on my desk," she declares with the matter-of-fact tone she uses on suspects who forget an important detail, "but near where ours meet."

Bobby's eyes bulge out. What the hell?! Blinking repeatedly for a few seconds, he slowly finds his voice. "W-Why?" The word comes out almost as a squeak from surprise.

That's a better reaction, Alex feels, smirking. "Because," she explains imperiously, "it **is** mine, and I've got the shorter reach."

Her expression is utterly bizarre to Bobby, and a chuckle escapes his closed mouth. What do you, he asks himself, say to that? "But," he finally settles on, amusement still there as he half-heartedly protests, "that takes away one of our hobbies."

She chuckles. Now, she thinks in disbelief, is a fine time to be attached to how things were, Bobby... "We'll create new ones," she points out, amusement and promise mixed together. "Plenty of them. Besides, what's the point in trading it back and forth now?"

True, he admits silently, true... "Yeah." He finally relaxes. If that's her first condition, he decides, then I guess I shouldn't worry. Now he's simply curious. "And the other one?"

Alex's smile turns devilish. "I get to drive your car someday soon." She hadn't noticed much about the car during the drive over, but now her cells are anticipating a future drive.

This time he doesn't blink for several seconds. What...? He stares at her, seeing how serious she is. Great, his mind groans as he closes his eyes. Should have known she'd ask... Well, can't let her have all the fun... He slowly looks at her, making sure his gaze looks hurt. "So," he mutters darkly, making sure no humor seeps through his eyes, "it's just my car you're after..."

This time it's her turn to not blink. Oh, no, Alex worries, I took it too far... She shakes her head hard, dropping a hand to cup his cheek as she exclaims, "Of course not! I want you. You, Bobby," she repeats in a whisper, needing to know he understands her reaction. "The car... It... It's **just** a bonus. You know I've got a weakness for great cars..."

Okay, that's enough of that... Bobby pulls her hand into his. "Good," he sighs happily, pressing a soft kiss against her palm.

Only then Alex realizes she's been had... You sneaky rascal, her mind shakes its own head at him. If I could free a hand to jab you... But her "free" hand is attached to an arm that's too comfortable being wrapped around him, so she settles for a mock glare. Her voice, however, only allows answering delight to show. "You're more mischievous than I thought you'd be..." Especially under the circumstances of today, part of her silently adds.

Bobby doesn't need to hear that last thought; his memory is all he requires to recall what brought them here. "Yeah," he sighs, trying to figure out how he can explain this. "But if I can be sitting here with you in my arms, and have hope for a better life than the one I've been living... How can I not be happy?"

Alex considers that for a moment. I guess, she slowly decides, that you can view it as the one favor your father did you... She finds the thought a little distasteful, but is relieved that Bobby will be fine. And I will make sure of that... She rests her head back against him, exhaling with a small sigh.

He leans his head to rest gently on top of hers. Perfection... If there's anything approaching such a thing, Bobby feels, Alex is it. Which only triggers that anxious part of him, that part that's kept him alive for so many years. How can I **not** screw this up, he worries, how can I...?

But her presence has fired that other part that got him to go after her, and it shoots right back. She has faith in you. She believes in you. Just remember that, and always make her feel special. It'll be hard work, but it'll -

His brain suddenly switches gears when that thought triggers another one, and his breathing stops. Work... The job... Deakins... The brass... Oh, crap, he panics as his lungs kick back in abruptly, pulling his head off of hers.

Alex's eyes pop open when he tenses. She feels the changes in his chest, and thinks, Oh, no... Raising her eyes, she scans for clues, which isn't easy when he's staring at the ceiling and she's looking up. What, she asks herself, could he be worrying about now...? "Bobby?" Whatever it is, it isn't good...

He opens his mouth, but it moves silently for nearly a minute. It takes him that long to manage to form a coherent sentence to express the source of his alarm. When he does, his voice is barely a whisper. "What are we going to do about work?"

She freezes. Oh, no... Swallowing, Alex's mind darts around on the subject. The other reason I kept my mouth shut... Captain may be relaxed on the regs, but he wouldn't be if he knew...

Wait, her mind breathes as an idea comes to her, wait... **If** he knew... but if he doesn't suspect anything... Her expression slowly transforms into a hopeful grin. She whispers, tone moistened with awe at the idea's simplicity, "We won't have to worry about that if we don't act any differently from our usual unique routine..."

What?! Floored, Bobby drops his eyes to meet hers. "You mean, hide in plain sight? Like the Purloined Letter?" Can that really work, he wonders, with all the sharp minds around us...?

"Yes," Alex nods. I **knew** he'd remember that story... "We need time to feel out where this will take us, and I don't want us split up..." She refuses to think about that it might one day be necessary. That's for the future, she feels. "But if we don't give the Captain or the higher-ups anything to worry about..."

"Then we get to stay together," Bobby finishes the sentence in disbelief. Easy to say, Alex, he thinks, but not so much in practice. "It's going to be tricky," he points out quietly, reflecting his uncertainty, "keeping work and... this... separate."

Figures that you're still doubting, Alex sighs silently. "I think," she softly declares, holding his eyes captive with her determined gaze, "that we can do almost anything if we put our minds to it."

Those words – so simple, yet so determined – are the truth, Bobby realizes, eyes watering. We've beaten the odds individually, **and** together... There **is** hope for us... Deeply moved to his core, he wants to make something this evening happen properly. At least, he silently amends, more like how she should be treated... Discovering that his voice has gone AWOL, he leans his head closer to hers, eyes softly asking for permission to go ahead.

Sensing what he wants, Alex's eyes flutter shut before she's aware of it happening. He's letting go of his worries for now, she thinks. He's focusing on the moment... A sigh escapes her as she pulls herself up to close the remaining distance.

The connection is gentle and sweet. This kiss, being a conscious decision on both their parts, feels much more real to them. It only lasts a few seconds, but that is more than long enough for both to feel like their existing bond is cementing, becoming stronger. Parting, they gaze into each other's eyes, sharing in the peace settles over them as they exchange smiles. The past fades away and the future is the furtherest thing from their minds.

For now. Now is a time, both feel as they settle against each other with their eyes closed, to simply enjoy this new experience. None of their fears – individual or common – stand a chance at intruding on a profoundly intimate moment.

No matter how that intimacy came to be.

THE END


End file.
